Monthly Archives: August 2014


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Stucco walls with gold leaf facades, colliding with cobblestones and water. Puddles have now become the place, dreams and fantasies come across a border.


I do not walk ahead, I do not walk behind. I am here to walk beside.


What words will they write?
How will they tell our story?
How will they write us?


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Days may be dull, clouds casting their shadows of grey. With my field of gold, I have no care if they stay.


It was them
I reached for the sky
It was them
That knocked
Me to the ground
With me
It will always be them.


Without leaves
Without branches
Without the trunk
Without roots
The tree
Would not be
A tree.


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No climb too steep
No cloud too grey
No path too rough
If with me, you stay.