In the expanse of the skies,
Floating on a cloud,
I'm the dew, condensating
The juiciness around me.

Falling to the ground,
Hit sweet solid earth,
I'm the mud, sauteing
The minerals within me.

Nourishment to the flowers,
Travelling through frivrous veins,
I'm the sap, feeding
The petals that is me.

Crafting a mark,
For the reader's place,
I'm the book, squeezing
The flower - why me?

Placed as a flowery reminder,
In an old soul's family heirloom,
I am the bookmark, resting
On the memories that were me.

I saw you walking,
Down Shakespeare Street,
A tempest surrounds you,
Thunder for a countenance.

Why the pain, my friend?
The fury.
I did not know it was prophecy fulfilled,
Oh, not what you did for me.

You did not need to take the load.
You did not need to take the pain.
You did not need to take the hanging.
Nor the gutting.

Who am I to be given such grace?
Such love?
But you would lay down your life for me.
And I do not understand why...

I saw you walking,
Down Shakespeare Street,
And if an ocean of language could be expressed,
In but one drop of water,
I would say -- you Love.

All ways, always
A triumphant scarecrow
Shooing the flying dead
Shoe in the lying head

Ever felt that
Scaring is caring?
Asks the strawman,
Whose comfort is fear

All ways, always
A triumphant scarecrow
Soul cuffed in sedition
Sole scuffed in sedation

Ever felt that
Frothy frolic?
Asks the strawman,
Whose visage is dead