when time is a wind,
misfortune blows the hardest.
life a fragile flame.
morning mourning
and so the worm turns
just like the changing seasons.
we fall down and mourn.
searing cold
when winter stays long
the heart aches for the hot sun.
and feelings get burnt.
sign language
like a barber pole
the cat’s tail speaks many tongues.
none i understand.
stormy sunshine
on a sunny day
things had never looked so bright.
storm clouds behind us.
ashen faces
time is a burning fire
in which we are consumed.
no phoenix rising.