A day's worth of Words.

let the sun's motif stay in your hair
as you move through the clouds on the fibers
of your finger tips;
I'll take trips through time.

the smell of Vanilla separates the sound waves
all things move, with the exception of this light.
doom on the loom can't tell the future in this room,
so come out into nature,
throw on your sweater
sew and stitch the clouds apart
and let the motif of the sun
do its thing.