Tempest

Wind, blow –
lift me high, don’t
let go;

fly me
far, above sand
and sea.

Monsoon –
take me, let’s chase
the moon.

– Ryan Stone

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Bedroom at Daybreak

A breeze saunters in,
brisk enough
to rouse spectres
from corners –
words flung like fists

fists flung like answers.
Passion smolders
then surrenders
to ash.

Outside a rosella
flays petals from a rose
until an empty husk remains

and I beg the fickle breeze
to carry me away.

Ryan Stone

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