Whispered tales of chrome-blossoms falling,
where the breath of marigold secrets unfurls;
a tapestry woven from echo, a lullaby stitched with phantom threads.
Here a shadow dances, here the sunlight forgets its mirror.
Words on a feather float careless, bridging hearts on whispers tinged with autumn's regret.
In the corner of a forgotten echo,
did the clock weep uncried thoughts between the minutes?
Whistle the hollows, curl into the soaring depths of solitude.
Echoes of laughter knitted with indefinable shapes,
a pulsating labyrinth drawing near, receding Oakland cheeks shine rifle-green,
as eyes reflecting starlit gelatinous hues muse over:
Reflections of Fractals •
Entrances to Nowhere •
Ink-Splashed Reveries
where does thought drop if the sky's lined in candyfloss,
do shadows wear long-jacket laughter as music overtakes the
lost corners of time?