Visions of a bonsai tree dancing in Tim’s head,

Dreams drowning into an image while in his bed.

A room in shadows drenched in memories of old.

Shades drawn to savor in darkness what’s done designs bold.

Cord pulled and sun puts a potter’s wheel in spotlight.

Tim drawn in like moth begins descent to make shape

Like a chef becoming one with pan and cooks crepe.

A stallion so virtuous in speed and regal

Or majestic soaring high as lord high eagle…..