| Writing Pages turning, blowing, burning Mind is blurring, tearing, stirring He is here - He is there He is East - He is West Ink dripping from the pen Confusion and surrealism when Late nights bring dreams Dancing, dropping, daring, doing, dreams Staining the staring white space With silent spills of speaking black He is here - He is there I could write him anywhere Pages turning, blowing, burning Mind is blurring, tearing, stirring. |