Sunday, June 22, 2014


written in February 2011

My thoughts seem reflected in the clouds
Silent, colourless in their existence
As the wind tears their edges into oblivion


written in 2008

I am volatile,
Made of vapour,
Riding out the whims
Of an ever-changing wind


written in 2008

Why a flower?
And why not?
When so little has meaning,
find meaning in little.
You need a reason?
Because the sky is blue today