I Think of Summer

I think of summer
as autumn moves away
opening the doors to winter.

Strong gust of November winds
blow past my shell
ripping apart my safe house
just at the start of the cold.

Summer has ended,
a season gone
but work still remains to be done.

I’ve been lazy
dancing under the sun,
now I’ll shiver and run
at the sight of the beacon,
nature’s sign of change.

I think of summer,
but summer’s gone.
I think of the next summer.

I will always think of summer.

Keys to Open

How strange

is it to have to ask

for keys to

open our own hearts.

To ask someone else

to unlock it,

should the demon

escape from the dungeons.

What fills the heart

is but not a demon,

it is an angel.

Teach him to fly,

perhaps he’ll return to you,

if not, he will be free as

should be.

Teach her to swim,

and she shall conquer

the oceans ahead,

no matter how stormy

the weather.

How strange

is it to have to ask

for keys to

open our own hearts?

Blue Waters

Time,
is like a river
with strong currents,
and I am a rock
between it.

I wonder if
I will find
pieces of myself
eroded away
through these years
scattered unto
streams and lakes
and finally the ocean.

How will I
ever remember if
a part of me
reaches the
blue waters?

How will I know if
my memory
floats unto the surface
splashed by the
passing ships?

And a piece of me
still remains
where it began,
right at the rivers
waiting to be
carried away time and again.