Across the river of life a bridge between all shades of blue in golden contour of our eyes, a bridge of skies reflected on the seas of mind- a dream of light, the mystic flight of sparks inside our grounded heart, evanescent colours of our sounding life, the bridge between our breaths of love. January,
The poetry of colours (carved) in the hidden music of the wind. Young branches craving (for the last embrace) before they’re skinned (of life) in winter’s emptiness. Leaves of the red are longing for the yellows while golden strive for ones of green a life of form and colour dies (before our eyes) a screen
I should have known your frowning skies hid your angry eyes, that icy tears would fall on us in your creepy windy white. I should have known your envy of the colours.