Moving from one person to another
One of them will know me
They’ll feel my music
They’ll see my pictures
They’ll read my words
They’ll hear my voice

I don’t know what the point is
I don’t know where this goes
The start of the beginning?
The start of the end?
Flowers that grow in my mind
I never have in my hand

When it’s cold and I can’t move
I only put words together
Like a frame around emptiness
Nothing inside, I can see through, then
you say something, that paints the space
I hope those fragments are real.

RR 2009