The tree of my soul: A poem 

I have a treasure of auroras 

licking the night sky’s  

slow lonely hours 

Yet, time in a moment dies 

to the harmonica of fantasy’s eyes 

where a carpet-floor of secrets rise  

My fields crop with your thoughts 

A front yard of flowerpots 

A beachfront where life’s merciless ocean 

becomes only a euphemism 

And I feel I can drink the moonlight 

inebriating my blood to white 

And the honey of wildflowers 

pump up all love’s powers  

And your soul becomes a tree 

entwining through my soul’s tapestry