If only your eyes could meet mine


Miss ya, Marx

flowers in bolgoda

Idealisms fade away

all too quickly in this age

just reaching through the thorns

could turn you away.

I’m not too old and not too young

and my fingers become numb

but the Red remains within

a flower, a fire, a flag

(a post script to an earlier poem ‘Hibiscus’ http://kindredclouds.blogspot.com/2007/03/hibiscus.html)