Photo by Rene Asmussen
The failing rays a summer late
Sun turning to autumn warm

Extends its grace before my fall
like empires wasted or war-torn

Sprits racing as thoughts digest

Lonely given arrows space to suggest 

I spin through the pen on paper I now lead
Punk words are written as an open bleed.


That wisdom of two another 
This crown of thorns head locked

Mind smother.

© 2020