Between hours of early morn and grey twilight,
roam, corners of the earth with lightest breath.
I glanced down at ink-stained hands, lingering
fragrance of hot pink tulips.
His murmurs interrupt curtain of gloomy haze;
while he offers me, quick words of benevolence.
I wonder what secrets, he held inside his heart;
as fuchsia moon appears, biding time to depart.
I looked up to the sky fresh tears welled into my
reluctant eye, oh perhaps some things are better
left unquestioned, I ponder as I pen fresh words
down on page.
Photo credits: Pixabay
Posted on Midweek Motif @ Poets United