a harrowed reference = photojournalist’s bucket
brimming with raw film conveying targeted wishes—
blank frames sparking imaginings

Streetlamps flicker,  
echoing their silence.  
The chill—  
not just in the air,  
but between glances  
that once burned.  
Footsteps dissolve  
into memory's fog,  
while love  
learns its first  
bruise.






.

Madame Ranevskaya’s Reverie  
poem 2 of a Chekhovian suite

I dance beneath boughs heavy with spring,  
wine-warm laughter on my tongue.  
The air tastes of childhood and lost letters—  
murmurs of father, of home.  

Yet every footstep echoes farewell;  
hope, a threadbare gown I once wore.  
I sip nostalgia like champagne—  
sweet, effervescent, and gone too fast.  




.

The Orchard’s Lament  
Morning mist drapes each blossom  
like a bride reluctant to wake.  
Petals fall in silent confession—  
memory’s hush in every drift.  

Roots hold secrets of laughter and tears,  
a debt of seasons owed to shadows.  
Soon, steel will bite bark and bloom  
and these ghosts will scatter on the wind.  




.

Should I die—think only of dew at dawn,  
Whispering on grass that shivers bright,  
Ghostly lines where my breath has gone,  
Vanishing in the arms of light.

Let each drop hold my final sigh,  
Tender residue of night’s embrace,  
Till warmth reclaims them in the sky,  
Leaving only memory’s trace.





.

"Paws in the Light"

A sunbeam waits.
Two cats settle—
quiet, apart, together.

No words. Just warmth.

In stillness, memory stirs.
You’re allowed to stop.
This moment matters.