From solid A

to slippery B

forgetting in a rush 

to play 

But yesterday 

I felt contentment

to the nth degree

and everything went bleak

Give in 

to how slow 

the sap is moving

Into reflection

of how you've grown 

under the summer sun

Now we catch up 

to our own selves

in blue air, white world

The Milky Way is spilling down

or whatever your dream direction is

Create

"Сочи", - is all I think of

at my fireplace

Once outside I sigh 

a taken breath... 

of Crestone

Fire is hot and

the children are laughing

So why is it cold

in my soul 

Own thoughts

keeping me down

while life goes on