Beneath the umbrella I stand,
A bouquet of flowers in my hand.
The wind picked it up, sweeping it away,
Now it's a memory, no longer part of the day.

Under the starry night sky I sit,
With my binoculars on my lap.
I looked on as they stars started to knit,
A beautiful, star-dusted map.

On the dull, glittering white pearl,
A shining, soft light of swirls,
And on that pearl lives a little girl.

The leaves in her mind have blown away,
Leaving a bare branch in the bay.
She wonders if this is the way
Of thinking—on this pearl she stays.

Her days
Is her pain.

distant recollections
of the sun beneath the ripples
pulsing, surging, breathing
please don't let me drown

I shall sleep as long as these strings bind
but when I wake
will you still be there?