Thursday, 13 March 2008

I Dream.

I Dream.
Of the morning light,
Its gentle touch,
Golden shades of bright,
The wood's smoky scent,
Air's cold embrace,
Your presence close,
In that quiet place,
Of which so much was meant.

Light and Bamboo


As a youth, I dreamt,
Flight, wings of steel,
Imaginary feathers, Gentle current,
Freedom, in the mind's reel.

Dreams of the young