Wednesday, May 23, 2007


A whisper at vesper,
Soothing the soft new leaves of maples.
Tendrils of gold and blood,
shyly reaching into the dark ewes of the sky.
At zenith, a single patch of sapphire,
The brilliance of your eyes, not seeing me, not seeing me.
You don’t know of me, my lover.
Where is our great big life?
Gently leaving, there, on that dirt road.

© Copyright Vesper

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