(At the bottom of the handwritten copy is scrawled – “My Masterpiece!” An unknown critic replied – “I wouldn’t count on it.” I think neither statement completely true .)

See the shadows on the
Windows of my mind.
The half-forgotten memories;
The half-remembered dreams
That crowd the attics
Of the brain.

Misty reflections in the
Mirrors of antiquity which
Are set into the halls
Through which lost ideas
Wander…seeking always an
Outlet through the soul.

See the shapes of tomorrow
Drift formless through the
Empty chambers of the mind,
Looking for a
Roost on which to grow.