outside my window,

green rolling hills 

of thoughts skim my

eyelids while

i trace the scar of your smile,


with inspirations towards

the sky,

which watches

the soil ripening with

the fruit of dreams 

spilled tea, 

tongues teased

with tangy longing,

soft and raw

but i am not awake

and you are

alive in the sky


ripened eyes 

while i 

am buried


beneath mountains sloped

with stacks of sweet silver 

seeds that i have

planted but i can never

see as fruit

see it come

to fruition

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