A Picture

Life, blank page, begs for these only words,

till dark wings will wander and laugh.

Humans are grabbing all the pink birds

in their pockets already full of stuff.

Time slinks like an old car with no light,

proud winds scatter weeping and ashes

on the same beach where after the fight

breakers upset our houses.

The pink birds still fly,

you and I hide dreams in both hands

till Life, blank page, God knows why,

will wander behind us.