The Call Home

I long for a path
through
shrouded woods
where creaking
branches
greet
barely audible
tread
of boots
on pristine white
and all paths
look the same
and yet
I am never
lost

Photo © ZenStatePhotography

You See Me

You have
my full attention
for as that gaze
finds mine
it sinks deep
to seek my soul
and I still
insides going
quiet
as my breath
catches
and senses
prickle
to your presence

Photo © ZenStatePhotography

In Your Arms

I am warmed
as you wrap yourself
around me
with strong arms
and solid energy
steady… sure…
comforting
and as the world
freezes
beyond the panes
you untie
my knots
and soothe away
the ache

Photo © ZenStatePhotography

Pristine

Soft and fluffy
friendly flakes
float down
like feathers
to somehow
gather
until branches
hang low
and the world
is whitewashed
clean

How do such
tiny things
collect so quickly?

Photo © ZenStatePhotography

The Losing Battle

Artistry lost
as once
commonplace intricacies
are discarded
and disregarded
pushed out
for the sleek
and streamlined
that costs
much less
because it is worth
nothing

This is how
society
abandons beauty
and breathtaking skills
are lost to time
instead of immortalized

Photo © ZenStatePhotography

The Rush

Beaten
battered
scratched
and scarred
I struggle
flounder
and fail
to float
then rally
to gasp for air
as days
tick by
in a blur
of lost hours

Photo © ZenStatePhotography