Holly Land

There is a sleeping forest
Berried under desert's bitter sand
Where the wind blows lyrics
Of a burning love
 Lost
In the shadows of the trees
Floating breathless down mad rivers
Until it finds safe shore
 To plant roots of
Hope

Nothing grows on dry feelings
So we wait for tear season
To flourish forgotten dreams
Of our holly land

Clouds are gathering in the sky
Thundering warning of new times
Storm is coming to rescue
Of our holly land

Photo: Atrium, Farwell Building from"The Ruins of Detroit", Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre

Inside an empty room

One is sitting.

No chairs or tables

No thoughts hanging.

On the floor
One is sitting.

No carpet or tiles

Just dusty memories.

Once there were people

And she was furniture.