a bright ocean sky
an emerald dew drop
a circling army of ancient treefolk
a horseshoe of white lollipops
and some dandy's silver ride:
my rooftop view

I search for things to say,
little words
stringed together like popcorn,
hoping that one day I will create a garland
so beautiful,
it will crown the greatest of evergreens

I search for images to paint,
splashes of color
pieced together like a puzzle
enlightening even the wisest of man

I scramble for the time
to play out my dreams beneath the stars
too numerous to count,
as my hopes,
where once upon a time begins the truth instead of fancy
and the end marks the zenith of expectation

sometimes the voice is silenced
we don't know why
but those who feel the restraint of unutterable groans
stoop beneath the burdening weight

when there is prolonged silence the spirit searches
deeper than the shallow nursery pools of youth
it frequents the haunted places
the uninhabitable corners of space
where only those ripened in the sun and schooled in time
find gems among the wreckage and rubble of forgotten and overlooked

when words finally break through the surface of the water
they are poignant
and blessed
for they have swam in the salt reserved for those who have
felt the echo of empty
the sinking and settling of taciturnity

reserved until full with a significant air
they float to the top
not a bloated corpse
but alive
sputtering out the words formed deep within them
coughing for the chance to tell the story
before they return to the silence that will come again like a tide