Old Maple branches sink into a pile of leaves soaked through Winter
All the pieces / of our lives, a show / driving there to there
a white trail streaks by free to play above the clouds I throw dreams at it and hope they stick But was it enough? as they vanish into sky
far away / silence glows blue / planets float in black
New bedroom fan creaking like mother waking me for school
What’s real what’s not real we laughed loved busted out then sunrise came, you left
Photo of a bee that has the face of a man with a beard.