The dreams of the night,
alive in the cold spaces
between us, fill the unknown
holes that have grown,
and will continue to.
Writer in San Francisco, CA

She claws her way out
of hell, Cerberus howling
breeze warms frigid air
Young buds stretch for blossoming
birds fluttering in the trees
The dreams of the night,
alive in the cold spaces
between us, fill the unknown
holes that have grown,
and will continue to.