Through the trees, opaque 
billowy pillows, splash on 
an azure canvas, sailing furiously, 
beyond my view.
...
        
            I move my pen across
the parchment, sometimes with 
such precise strokes, 
proceeding without
...
        
            A dark gloomy scene 
fills my window pane
a cool breeze blows 
suggesting rain
...
        
            The time was not right, 
is it ever, you had
your life, I had mine, 
infatuation, maybe, maybe love.
...
        
            That fateful day in
September, fear surfaced
For a nation, once again.
...
        
            fills my senses
browns, oranges, yellows
meld into the sky, a
back dropp for this
...
        
            Bombarded by worries
of money and time
maybe my dream needs
to be put on hold
...
        
            her silken fibers worn by the wind and rain  
cling to her feeble shoulders  a painted facial 
tautness grainy as parchment screams for the sun’s 
sweet rays  her smile beams brightly  clover among
...
        
            Many years have past since 
I’d been a gung-ho youth of fourteen
Vietnam had been a child-like fantasy of 
glory and honor cradling me proudly
...
        
            Nothing matters 
when happiness alludes  
not the environment 
not peace  not family  not
...
        

 
                    