the owl hoots at night,
it takes time to accept everything,
i throw my fist in the air,
and the sands hop on the gravel,
oil drips on the side of the vinyl,
raindrops in a clear puddle,
serene mountains and the smell of pine,
honeycomb twisted on the honeycomb stick,
a bag of skittles opened to bits of color,
i feel the plug of a cry,
sated are my senses,
dry and shriveled like a desert twig,
when i hear the sound of music,
my heart is stimulated,
but my face is drooping,
like the wax that is melting from the tip of a flame,
"help me," i say,
only musty, sweet, and tearful memories awake,
if i give you my heart,
can you never leave me,
a plastic piano with Starbursts,
coral lipsticks and a wrinkled white face,
giving a gift is better,
because its present fragrance is still pleasing,
how lovely are the quiet things,
in life, they move gracefully and majestically,
like a beautiful woman,
mesmerizing, captivating, and breathtaking,
her treasures are more valuable than pearls,
she is a crown,
the black crow cannot break through her forcefield,
for in the grey sky is a rainbow,
let the leaves come and go,
let the colors of my heart be radiant,
a magnet for the pollens,
the dandy and the light-hearted
