sad eyes
child of
the long sunrise
no water to sing
her dreams free
runaway girl
younger than older
any deeper wind night
san francisco street defeat
freedom whispered through
her sighs
yet retreat colored her tries
singing another’s sweet blues
till ant morning on rise
mirror mirror
shattered glass on a
scared wooden floor
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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Ron
Love ya!
Jane