Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The rays of dawn
blew peaches from
the wishing well,

a cantilever of
brightness
could not stand
the weight
of the wind,

it crept over the
rise like
a fortune teller
bearing the
truth from
depths of
coffee grounds,

our hearts skipped
a beat
when we realized
that the knock
upon the wood
had split
the 2x4.

the weight
of the wind,

I don't know why I even try mark
your words like a fig tree to me
I can only hope that if souls are reborn
the nexti time that wheel goes round
I may have such beauty in me.

you give me words that fill my sails
I head to another shore
where truth grows on trees like shinning figs.

now I head to dreams....thank you Jack.......