there’s nothing wrong with the clouds,
though they pass us by,
and no law against looking
at the pink eastern sky

though trouble may be brewing,
it brews only in your eye

beautiful things

for me, too
they look so tantalizing
like fresh white roses

merely trinkets

I don’t think of anyone else now
the rain was familiar, but it really brought me down
you’re like a rainbow if it wasn’t ephemeral
I pray that you’ll last, even prayers are temporal
we need the past
but the present is seminal