WanderingDaydreamer

Your kiss numbed my lips Breath a snowflake A winter cog lodged in my throat Tears spilling from my eyes Ice thawing from mountain pools Salt crystals and water my sleet Trickling lazily down The sparks from your gaze hailstones Battering my body Wearing down my defences Before sweeping me up in your blizzard Consuming and assaulting my senses Then calming and softening To blanket my angelic body Warm my icicle fingers With those of your own Once I push my way through the snowdrifts Lethargy dissipating and lifting Breaking through an avalanche of dreams I find myself alone My neck tingling with remaining blemishes Of chi

Broken fragments of glass mingle with the littered autumn leaves The heavy air filled with whispering grass and the creaking of eaves Animal calls echo away over building landscapes etched with rust Where people used to have their differing says and architecture was robust. A steady rumbling avalanche of concrete, plaster and bricks Surrendering to every investigative tree branch where radiation sticks Café stained windows have been smashed into a torn children's collage and painted Past days inhabited those trained in nuclear physics whose minds were warped and tainted. Cracked pavements split apart each house a different variet

   Once again I am back at the same place. The shadows of my past have dragged me under, reeled me in. No matter how many times I have tried to forget, it always seems to come back full force. Though it was decades ago, the words broke me. They left mental scars I cannot erase to a blank canvas.   To my right by my feet in the dim light, a silvery dandelion clock explodes into a flurry of seeds like a firework, the little pieces whisked away on the breeze. I like to think she is here now with me, breathing fresh new breaths. Now and then I come here to be in this quiet desolate place with my little sister. Leaves flutter and fall down to th

   They complement each other like twins, despite the fact they are always present yet invisible to the human eye. The two of them return over and over but nobody notices when they appear, only when they are born into existence once again, like a phoenix rising from its ashes. Most of the time they remain above the cloud-lines.    Dawn rides in on a board shaped like a circle, a ball of sun. She trails light in her wake. Strawberry blonde hair and a dusty terracotta jacket embellished with zips reflecting what she does on a daily basis. She unzips the skies, withdrawing the cloak of night, opening a golden threa