Tuesday, July 28, 2015


There are times
In blackest night
When I seek
Moonlit shadows
And streaks
Of midnight blue,
A place of softest warmth
And textures sleek,
A bed perfumed
With fragrances of you.

But I miss you most
When God paints the sky -
Crazy crimson
A golden fleece,
Pink blotched clouds
And pale mauve rose air up high -
And we count brush strokes
On His masterpiece.

No comments: