TripAdvisor
When sunset arches above the ‘feels big’ things,
worn-down blunt edges touching the ground,
yet distant to make all equal, to converse
the keys and passwords to hue memory,
to fold and save in carved earthy womb
where petals in the flowerbed so
satisfied of gifts
received, uncurled/nurtured by bugs so
treasured
and guard the giving…
When sunset arches…
I feel the breath
Of night.
The life gets lethargic, drunk of
itself, vanished
to be born again in dawn dress with
roses bushes,
fast perky promises of longer days, pensive
nights of
bittersweet tears and cues, missing
words of love
required from others, but resisted to
follow through
by us.
Read more at: Three Word Wednesday, PU Mid-Week Motif
