Sometimes my soul sinks in spirit,
gray skies and damp rich earth
a duality in passion and lack of luster.
You see I love to grow; things,
people, myself. And though I turn
a heart wild and thighs throbbing,
equanimity toward the sun, I let
the gray depressions nourish
to thought dreams of tomorrows
instead of temp into decay of spirit.
Yet deep do I desire the sun
to stroke and admire in soft caress.
