I, gaze towards the cold and desolate moon,
listen to whispers wafted by lingering wind.
Scattering sweet visions lead round a street,
I, couldn’t decide whether feeling or dream.
And though love wore mask of drifting mist,
I, reached out and offered unwavering hand.
My heart is a ghost town, like a rose in sand.
Photo credits: Pixabay
Posted for ‘Flash 55 Plus’ @ Real Toads
Posted on Poetry Pantry @ Poets United