Shelter

I hear the termites still inside my dreams
An aged lady dusted of her sins 
It's summer when her pulses hush and slow
I grieve the shelter, home I'd never know. 

 

Short Poems #5-6

This Vine

I rain, I shine.
This vein, this vine,
I feed, I wine,
in vain, in vain.

************************************

Water

Water for the lady,
flavored for gourmands.  To
freedom for the slaves, their
sodium graves.