karen sinclair Biography

The fresh tear, heavy with meaning and purpose
Travels southbound upon my warm skin.
Full of reason and pain, I watch
Distracted by it's beauty
...

The small brown nightingale sings
From left bough of an insignificant tree
He brings not much
Just love and a touch
...

Huddled within a blanket
In a camping chair
Thats not quite right
Blinds down to shade the sleeping
...

I am a swathe of salted tears
Spread thin upon brown earth
Doused throughout lost years
Querying all I'm worth
...

When blackened skies shroud
Purple thoughts are thrust
As sprinkles of glitter dust
Up through the atmospheric pressure
...