Phantasm

Into morning mist
My breath congeals
In familiar shapes

Each cloudy tableau
Reminds me of you

And just before
My mind can grasp
The metaphor

The swirling mist
Shudders, shatters
Shaken by the shiver
Of exhaled memories
As my lips turn blue

Flowers in the Night

Like flowers in the night
That fight shy of the morning
The silent men await
The coming of stars

In the black despair
A million twinkling lights
Give us glimmers of hope
To the sound of silent screams
But when the morning arrives
There is no sign of life
The desolate plains stretch
On into nothingness
As the flowers lie stilled
Back in their buds
Or as withered petals on the wind

When the night arrives
They emerge and sing
Songs of hope
And yearn for the light

Yet not a one
Will wake in the morning
Not a one will sing
Of freedom in the light.