Moodily, the crepe crescent appears in the sky
perhaps it seeks validation–
this moment that holds significance as I gaze overhead,
it’s been a while.
I loved you first: but afterwards your love outshone mine,
gifting in return songs of innocence
There are days when I picture your face
amid the clouds
knowing well the blossoms shake themselves off the tree
where your scent has touched them.
With the dust of sleep upon my eyes I wake,
gentle tremors reverberate under sheets with subtle anguish;
it defies reason,
greyish-blue reflection of sky with bits of moss press urgently
into my hand
as though urging me to align my breath with yours—
allow me to touch you, ever so lightly
your lips hold the universe in their frame;
the world at large is a hieroglyph corridor, incomprehensible.
Photo credits: Pinterest
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Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United