If you were here
in the humid,
scented dark,
I’d tell you
what the moths
whisper with
their wings
when they
brush stars.

If you were here
I’d show you
where the wet
green moss
makes love
to ragged stones.

If you were here
I’d carve your breath
into rain clouds
and watch the sun
set them on fire
at dusk.

12 Responses

  1. I once told you a story I read was written for me, I think it may have happened again. I know it didn’t but that is the way it affects me. Which means you do it better than anyone.

  2. I love it when you write and the picture forms in my mind and makes me want to paint. One of these days I am going to do a painting for you my dear. Just beautiful xx

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