Free

The bird that perches in the tree,
from burdens of distress, is free.

Dying Flight

Like butterflies with bronze and golden wings,
that flutter to the earth in dying flight,

Muse

I can only think in rhyme,
carried along by the rhythm,

Lilac

“I cut down my lilac today,”
she said as she glanced at his face.
He didn’t respond or betray
a change she could easily trace.

Stone Crown

The only way for her to reach this place,
was to climb the mountain;
a giant volcanic citadel, soaring towards the clouds.