Malted Light, An Amalgam of Whispers

The light drips slowly over faded thoughts.

Cereals forgotten, mingled dreams left on the roadside,

awaiting their turn at oblivion.

Nearby, the chimney stacks converse in rhythmic silence,
discussing matters of grave importance—

taxes claimed by smoke signals,

reclaimed beneath suspended sunsets.

Envelope unopened on a cluttered desk,
whispers parchment chiromancy; offering guidance on Wednesdays,

in the direction of

folded dreams or

stoned roses.