Many an April has ignited the muse
permeated into the skin,
as water
that seeks to mould the intentions of salt,
of sugar and sand
which is the most muted shade of gold,
in twilight the water is darker
as muse adopts its characteristic pattern
and when April ends,
I sigh
as though a lover waiting to be kissed again.

 

Photo credits: Rebloggy

Posted for Poems in April @ Real Toads