
In the sticky smell
of an aerosol-smeared tyre
survives the painter.

In the sticky smell
of an aerosol-smeared tyre
survives the painter.

Never turns its back—
nature—unlike mere humans;
if she does, all ends.

Learn to laugh at life
and acknowledge history;
create a future.

Living on the edge,
mulling over life choices,
brunching on popcorn.

In tiny pockets,
lies the opportunity,
to bloom, as nature.