Sandcastles

Glinting a shade of amber,On the boundary of gold,Eyes fixate at summer rays,The last ones bright and bold. Feet dig deep in golden ground,Hands carve onto sand,The wind whistles in ears both,And drops dead to the land. The summer sun will always set,The wind will always die,Does not mean winter will not,For it always passes…

Dead storms, mornings bright ft. Tanka

The storm is all dead, Instantaneously gone, Shattered by the winds: Broken glass in lucid hands, capturing sun rays alone. ~ for storms will come, and storms will go, but you will make the sun shine bright on yourself with the very things that your storms will break…