Breathless fingers lingering scattered leaves reaching of Autumn's cold khaki in ethereal woods of the burnished vane's copper whispering soft winds sleep calling the kettle Father as shadows follow the moon listening to cockney of Autumn's cold khaki

Of wind songs and gravity Play-Doh in nature's egg embodying the aether blue skies and providence listening to the ecology whispered by the trees of wind songs and gravity Play-Doh in nature's egg

Autumn leaves wind-borne crisp as the golden sheaves dervishes twirling monsoons of an opus in wooded crops falling from the tree's hatbox filling nature's silent butler leaving fingerprints of metaphors with a shadow from the Commodore... Amen

Dripping winds from the valance from the mind's dark Gotham beneath the housewarming chair in twilight's intoxicating embrace wandering lullabies ascending stairs leaving footprint threads in silence listening to the sleeper's quiet cries candles, spiders, and lurking eyes share time's looming nighttime gloom memories run amuck in deep pools dancing to hollow echos of regret from the mind's dark Gotham

Sailing dreams with the wind between beneath the moonlight on dolphin wings listening to the waters of bottlenose bluenecks raising fins to the themes sailing dreams

From the shaker's vault and the veins of salt in nature's frame a leaf about to fall from the tree of life listening to the voices of humanity's reign in nature's frame from the shaker's vault

Harboring the memories in nectarine nocturnes when we were young and courted lemons plucked tenderly that held a scent of nature's beyond touched by the breath of soft mellow winds in nectarine nocturnes

Seamless shadows and motions nature's shillelagh trees in the sod where notions of voices dwell with sorcery whispering gales silently from fragile demitasse changing seasons' magic to bestow a scared breath of floating leaves with sorcery whispering gales

In my mind's unkempt places of metaphors and stereophones before brushing my teeth with the silence of time getting louder turning the night out as I sleep whispering to a quilt beast walking quieter than my feet as it fades to a powder with a length of my skein bunting a cross-stitching floss went hunting from the Sandman's daunting with the silence of time getting louder

In correspondence with nature's backdrop a step away from the land of eternal dreams from the eye of salvation and azure blue sky listening to the whispering chair transporting an imagination of magical places unforgettable of oaken sails and falling leaves breathing

...a thousand murmurs whispering once upon a given to seek a kiss from the mannequin's shadow dwarfing the twilight as I dream listening to the shrinking heart through the windows cellophane in shades of stippling souvenirs for this, I shall remain in depths of light and dark twirling on the page skipping through the shadows peeking into the lover light waiting for a kiss shrinking into night

...it's my Beetlejuice and not your karaoke dancing with a shadow and memories with whimsical pistachio green shells listening to the coffee pot's concierge paint mustaches on the ink well's clam sliding on the escalator without a destination it's my Beetlejuice and not your karaoke

in remembrance of Quasimodo with the breath of olden's short winds like unseen presence leaves of dead driven like ghosts fleeing bones of men with a little less chin and matted hair but the character of the man is in the treetops

...you are my caviar, pimento of soft red lips, no herring from Norway, just memories, quince of my despondency

In Cupid's secret queue of the early dawn getting the biscuits quiet as a field mouse pimento red dark roses essence dew drops sweet as ardor listening to silence dripping from the fluorescence memories dressed as ganglions under my skin listening to silence aged of philosophy in Cupid's secret queue of the early dawn getting the biscuits quiet as a field mouse