Tearing strips.

Orange tears in the light blue sky,
broken bubble
where dreams can fly,
summer storm,
summer torn
from your
yearning arms.

Wanderings

Stranger sleeps
next to me
apologises
for disturbing
out of politeness
rather than earnestness.
"I have to go"
(I wish he would,
or shut up, if he could)
but stays some more,
finally ends up on hard stairs,
asleep, alone.

Sibling.

You are my hazel eyes,
a terror,
rollerblade tremor,
a younger selfish me.
You have my last designs,
my sister, teenager,
kind sometimes, I see.
You'll have my way of life,
forecast the future,
and please,
take your time to me.

["Two wrongs don't make a right, but one wrong doesn't either..."]

Grassroots

Grassroots,
mud & boots,
gloves & green.
I've never been
a great escaper,
troubadour failure,
but never fail
to love the trail
beneath my shoes,
sliding home.