mayafly

I tread along the rain-worn streets Of urban sprawls whose dwellers sleep In pied quilts or a lover's fold, Minds filled with easy, pleasant dreams. Within the hour, young and old Will rise for what the day might hold, With vigor’s kiss on beating breasts, To ward from winter's ice and cold. The maples bow to winds' duress - Adorned in frost, their Sunday best; Though as for snow upon the ground, Such sparsity does ill impress. I cleave my path without a sound, As if to shore the magic wound Throughout the city's empty sweep Where only I am present bound.

~Brush the Sky~ When I entered hell the demons all had wings of black slick and ridged and shining graceful on their backs When I entered heaven the angels' wings were white glistening and soft and smooth spreading wide in flight When I entered the forest the fairies watched me pass their colorful wings aflutter shining mosaics of glass But the wings I hide are dreary and monotonously grey they gape with holes and broken bones in a lifeless sort of way If I pretend that nothing's wrong as I fly with damaged wings Perhaps will all that hurts me turn into better things Spiral staircase to somewhere they say you'll touch th