A leaf is an island.
All of them are.

From the island of an ant
the shaft of light
saunters to the tiny spider island.

I should have left the pier.
I have no one to bid goodbye.

Day Two  

Your feather 
has a lonely body.

Its monochrome journey 
reaches the spot of rainbow.

My toes test the water.
Skin tastes its pristine cold.

Day Three

Imagined you standing
in the middle lake.

Every step I take
sinks me a little.

Every step takes me back
to the beginning of the end.

Day Four 

The birds circle my wet hair.
Water cascades from my body.

Breathing tires me.
Air burns my lungs.

I surface- the words 
from an unspoken dream-

my feet speeds towards the blue,
albeit everything is azure.

Everything is calm.
When the lake grin
its skin creases into a thousand wrinkles.