“Tell me,

What do you want?”

Shall I give you eyes to see?

Gentle moments that follow one another like pearls slipping off string.

The essence of crushed rose after dusty rain

Dusty oils

Honey served on a silver spoon?

Only rubbed back essentials, darling

Only your patina soul.


The sky cries, tears, for all the lost boys.

Rain splashes upon pavement, forming puddles, which stream tiny rivulets, canals of water. Gravity, that inevitable force, beckons the water home. Listen, as it rushes, through the storm drains.

There was a time I would have folded newspaper into the shape of a boat, grabbed my raincoat from the hook, donned my boots, and set sail. My mind, headed somewhere, anywhere, far away.

It was a time of innocence. A simpler space. A fleeting moment when I believed in good.