Humbled by your skies
that must have much more gold in them.
Yellow snakes whisper awkward prose
to me. Serenading serpents
with their eyes in the kettle.

And the kettle is screaming.

In awe of words known in youth,
forgotten along with insecurity.
Lost in blazing, born-again skies.
Memories of burning trash heaps
light up my mending heart.

No.

Not yet or again,
the sun is a constant chase,
a clairvoyant echo whispering
some loneliness happier
than its reciprocal atmosphere.

So very humbled by those skies you must still see.

It's like emotion painted across a page, love it.

What a vivid start - the emotion clearly shown

as always....

Yep..Yep as always a brilliant look into your thoughts