Sigh.
Fatigue and satisfaction.
Dispelled by a weary whole.
Weight of life and limb released
From a tired and angry soul.

Moon.
Iris in full blossom.
Pupil of the sky.
Petals of moisture striated in darkness.
Night-blooming lunar eye.

Time.
Fickle siren.
My tears are lost on your cold shoulder.
You get sweeter every day,
As I get ever older.
You left Louisa years ago
And never even told her.
She watches with her child-heart
In the cries of the beholder.

Lane.
Wrong-turn only.
Stuck between autumn and the distance.
Unsure what options I have left,
And cyan offers no assistance.