There was a lifting
of dreams, a rising of hope
an overreach of
memories.
he was a velvet hitchhiker
searching for
relief.
secret angels touch the soul
of his shoulder
guiding him away
from creative misfortune
he stands to the right of his
shadow.
as he witnesses
the good within uncertain
eyes.
a rhythm of power covers
his wounds from
towns without names and
unfamiliar voices
Roger Singer 