On a crystal breeze,
across the forest lake about to freeze,
On silver bells someone plays my melody
Hear it and again you shall remember me
along with memories forgotten long ago
and a song you once used to know
as warm as a dying ember
glowing on a night of December ...

Writing love poems to no one,
Is like making cookies for yourself,
Its still enjoyable
Even if you do it alone.

the road to the sun
weeps to fall in the shadows,
sweet breath of the sky.

She left me with nothing but math.

Bedroom walls miscalculated
to the color of a bruised plum.

Moonwhite sheets tangled
into isolated geometries.

Her pillow, the sum
of broken equations.

Moonlight proves
distance by degrees:

light slanting
in the hallway,

the acute angles
of an open door.

how better
to spend the day while
she sleeps peacefully
but listening to music

the Beatles
in particularly.
Catching a glimpse
occasionally

of her beautiful
peacefulness
wondering
does she dream of me

when I hear
Good Day Sunshine
I ache

to wake her up