S&S (Rough) 

Sitting in idleness with-

the creeping ivy growing high, 

oxidized metal blends in with the dirt,

paint peeks out from underneath the bubbles of rust. 

.

& –yet

.

Still the small bell sings, 

(there upon the croooked handles)

A joyful reverberation leaping for the trees. 

Remanents of neon green tassels shyly flutter,

taken in hand by a curious and friendly morning breeze.

.

PN: work that hasn’t been workshopped will have titles accompanied with “(rough)”. 

Tumultuous (rough)

Just as my worries gather they ebb-

drawn out to sea.

The decaying parts of my spirit float on it’s discordant waves.

Glittering foam catches negative thoughts,

they disappear into sand-

become the dreams and castles of children,

my sorrows transformed into well intended moats.

Sunlight bleeds into night,

the dying of a gull resonates down the alley of the beach,

water gnaws on a clumsy tower made of sand,

it draws the melancholy back to me.