A Wrinkle in Time

Two minutes I fear
The faint tick tick tick I hear
Pray God for those dear

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Hushed

The silence spreads out
A misty blanket of fog
Cold, damp, and opaque

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Haptics

Boundaries in truth
Are vague and arbitrary
And yet have purpose

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Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!

Are you listening?
For I have something to say
Are you listening?

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Synchronicity

When ones senses speak
Of shifting reality
The nimble survive

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The Lighthouse

It was still misty
As she hurried down the stairs
To greet an old friend

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Tangles and Plaques

I pulled a loose thread
And the tangle unraveled
To six feet of string

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