Sun has gone crimson and sycamores have stopped to burn Sycamores, tossing in glee; hundreds of trees, thousand years old, straddle the road. Road that I racing west, Driving against memories. Memories, swaying like breeze, collide my car, vintage sapphire. The way never slithers and swirls, it just goes straight, under the yellow velvet of quintuplets; when sun is to be set, and clouds seeming to be six months pregnant. Flurrying to my fuzz, leaves, with yellow hue, say that I have some dues; to the faded pages, worn-out cover, to the stolen raisins, to the seventeen, to my dreams and to my nightmare, to the wind of western sapphire.

Words strung together, formed in a rhyme expressions of my heart preserved in time.... Driven by emotions my thoughts I write about.... at times when I want to cry, those moments when I want to shout... I'll express myself in these poems They'll tell you what my person is about. - Me *** A collection of my written poems along the course of time, everyone of them is original, I just post them when ever I write or find one, (like in FB notes or old textbooks) Please proceed and and kindly comment about u think.