alone in the amethyst tower.
miah at work, i at play. with noone to play with.
blue skies have faded with more important things to do.
daisies keep busy with soul emotions.
a phone call here and there to keep the silver chord warm.
fields of heather turned from lavender to dustbrown.
valleys of lilies come and go, as always. but i think space is required to grow. i leave her where she lay. newly freed from her sepulcher of decay. she is she...and not me.
lions, and tigers, and bears...hunted down in the jungle, with their furs on old lingering minds.
old frogs seem fond of the swamp and care not to join me on escapades.
and newly formed figures must be treaded upon lightly. for the coat of paint applied needs time to dry.
but i think times of gathering smoke and flowers will open up doors that allow friendship near. and perhaps i'll have someone to run with me through thick fields of snow.
and little lolita is kind, and should come nearer more often. so we can speak in a different tongue of what our little minds imagine and what we call fun.
i can curl my tail and sigh and yawn with cat tongue while dreaming on her lap.
the faraway poets seem as fleeting windwhispers, whose comments come and go, and connection is deep...but eye contact matters when discussing the Soul.
piano keys and familiar things were drawn with disappearing ink.
(leaving passwords and clues in foreign english languages)
tiptoeing across waterpipes...

10/11/2002

Posted on 10/12/2002
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