Deep winter sun.
Near an empty bed.
You sent me a picture,
and the curtains swayed slightly.
As if by magic a sultry winter sun.
And I will lie down on the bed.
With loose vines all around.
Everything is tangled.
It could always be like this
A Wandering Poet
As I walk around I like to record what I experience. Through poetry, ideas and thoughts I hope I can share some of these experiences with you.
A Wandering Poet 