Walking along the bank
of a small stream.
Ice crystals have formed
at the edge of the rushing
current. Remarkable
ice with multi-patterns
over rock and soil.
A lonely Crow squawks
up ahead. Unusual as
the Crows are in pairs.
A low hanging fog,
silences the sounds of
of moving water. All is
quiet now. Where are you
Crow?

This island of discontent,
surrounded by a sea of loneliness,
was created, in my mind.
I am the victim,
creating my own sorrow,
ignoring those who offer
help and prayers.

Golden skin rippling
like the waters of the Nile.
Snowy, white teeth, reflecting
threads of light from your smile.
Milk chocolate eyes, blinding,
those who dare to pause.
Lilting laughter, falling
gently about my ears
for no reason. Just because

When you leave this place
at the end of your day,
will you stroll slowly
or run quickly to say,
"Goodbye to all,
that I know well;
I'm on a pathway,
going straight to Hell."