It’s a bright sky tonight.
Some candle behind a paper wall
Is burning just a bit too bright,
So the words on the page end up
Burned inside his eyes.

A cool breeze blows,
Sending a chill rushing down
His spine.

A deep breath brings in the cool
Flavours of a quiet fall night:
No rush of traffic.
No sirens.

A lone cricket plays, it’s song is
A bell, tolling the midnight hour


This Is An Escape

Tree-topped ridges.

Morning blood boils up over the horizon,

painting the sky in pink and orange.

The lake lays calm, still half trapped in sleep,

its slow breath fogging as it greets the morning air.

This is not the world.

This is a transition.

A dream:

Existing in vivid colour and detail,

where an hour exists inside of a second,

This is an escape.

On Waking Up…

I don’t recall when exactly it happened. I’ve scoured through memories like old textbooks, hoping the answer would be hidden amongst the pages; a word, barely visible amongst the dust and dirt, that would unlock every secret.

The more you search, the words begin to blur, twisting and taking on new shapes; refusing to be cemented into one single meaning, existing instead as an idea.

Today, you’ll swear the sky is a brighter shade of blue; the wind is most certainly more refreshing; even the water tastes better. Only a moment ago the world outside was dark, the moon glowing dimly in the sky. Yet, when you turn your head – just for a second – you turn back to dawn stretching its orange and gold slowly over the horizon.

This is how love works. It does not hit you like a punch in the face. It stalks you, whispers ideas in your ear as you sleep, and makes its home in your heart. You’ll notice the change, like spring to summer, but never exactly when it occurred. You will realize that love is your shadow, with you since the moment the sun took its place in the sky.

And she is the sun.