The fragrance of
Summer is gone,
But alas, we gain
beautiful seasons
of colors avast
Distances grow
In a lonely heart
As a scent still lingers,
The season's yearnings,
Of a love to pass
Roses yearn for
A gentle touch,
Urging towards
A want to be seen
and a want to last
A vague perception
Caught listlessly
Inside a distant hope,
We are not,
And this world is vast
Days go on
And times will change,
A wisp turns colder
as it passes through
A Sunday Mass
God shines down
a new day upon
us, adorn our
lives with our
Shapeless masque
Schizophrenic Poems, Short Stories, and Thoughts 