heart
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the sky is full of starsyet the spectacular coloursof the northern lightsare still to come—like the unfinished poemwritten in the notebookas the poet has left the room
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be as cold as the ice cubesand i still won’t freezebarefoot stay on the same groundthe mountain’s peak meant to be climbedwhile life is an intermittent riverit will rewet again somehow—bravery
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wednesday’s gray dawnthe birds stay on the ground—silently it’s no longer tea for twoand some bird dropping into my cupthe swear words fall from my mouthand they scatter—leaving me behind with nothing but the rain falling