(untitled)#63

.

quick-silver runs

on the wave crest – the moon

crashes onto the beach

.

where once

my hairline now tumble

white whiskers

.

stealing silver

creeping out – behind a cloud

moon shadows fall

.

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(untitled)#62

with the dawn fading

as all that burns bright dims – just

childhood memories

.

brightly twinkling stars

constellations in grasses

tread softly through heaven

.

in grasses I left

long may you burn firefly

a wasteland beacon

.