spirit

in the puff of snow
a broken hero appears
with a bruised ego.

whisper in my ear.
stay with me, forever near.
please forgive my tear.

what if tomorrow
was made up of yesterdays?
would we live better?

can the future live
while we abort history?
present past future.

on heaven’s canvas
i paint the blue with green trees.
yellow sun nodding.

the fingers twisted
like gnarled branches of a tree.
slave to soul’s music.