Sleep the ledge where line meets touch
don’t roll 
one side or other 
lest balance lost

Doctor, hold hands 
fill with marigold petals 
color of forest fire sunset

Caramel sky, saucers fly
do you belong
if, so, welcome

Smooth skin spirals
stem of possibility 
little mouse where are you

Walking the door
opening roar 
blackholes
silence sitting 

Corpse seed cleared 
E=empty bowl
gurgling pool 

Syndrome of afterlife
nothing certain
no need

You ride voices

Do the math

Look beyond

Beautiful hands

.

.

.

Author’s Note.

Another visit to the Denver Botanic Gardens for our writing group to write.

During our community time before putting down our thoughts, I gathered words from our conversation. These became our prompts and opening line:

Sleep. Doctor. Caramel. Smooth. Walking Corpse Syndrome.

You do look beautiful.