Flowers seeping secrets through the wind
fingers grazing delicate petals
searching for perfection
seeking out misprints.
Rarity is a fine form.

The setting sun spills passion
awaiting night’s secrecy.
Dance into the night’s crisp air
ablaze and cautious
through unmeasured time.

Fate blinds these eyes.
Practicality strangles my voice.
A quiver to fall
strength to stand.
Follow me to the end.

When the sun rises
Chalk pastels will fill the sky
Then they will remember
just the reason
we came here without goodbyes.

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