Wednesday, June 15

red sky at morning

words are shifty things
worse than emotions
slippery in the night
falling from my fingers
like cherry pits
thrown into the wind,

pale plum blossoms
shivering on the tree,

the touch of your skin
at dawn,
too precious to describe.

words and tears pale against 
burning velvet sunrise
like dry leaves
caught up
in the silken breeze.