the wee folk live here
in the hollows of burned trees
tread lightly with care

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bridge forms a circle
the wishing can now begin
hurry, time is short

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my hat in my hands
I bid you a fond farewell
as I die inside

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life is different here
at the beach, near the water
we walk on our hands

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light in the darkness
in a deep, dark, blue ocean
electric bulb floats past

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white variations
silk, satin, fluff; fades and change
delicate, yet strong

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time to change, I think
why does Friday get the joy
celebrate Monday

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