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Poem

Clouds of fleeting cotton clump,
tire to make the changing shape,
tell wind, stop blowing squally across sky. 
They want to adorn shining golden lines,
as cold sun sinks beneath skyline remote.

The sun rays paint old leaf tan,
in summer heat the face curls,
as the shape of youth crushes for it’s dry.
In fall wind it blows away from the stem,
tree wishes spring to usher in the green.

Dream buds unfurl the dry eyes,
see petals shape blissful bloom
in flowers soaking colors from spring air,
share hue of butterflies from sunset sky
until the shape of splendor wilts forlorn.

Bleak loneliness strides with me 
toward you, my charming moon. 
Its shadow sinks in my fading footprints,
that’ll pace until I reach you to embrace,
you’ll find me repose in shape of silence.

Life weaves web maze of patterns 
with the ordained shape of things.

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