Evening is many things… the end of a day, of a night, the start… a poet with a pen and a heavy clueless heart… cereal and milk in a shopping cart… a philosopher, her world torn apart… a wanderer far off on the green field… a heart-break that still hasn’t healed… in the shadows of this eve my dearest dreams sleep… and they dream of forgotten memories… in your sepia sanctuary, I yearn to fade out and disappear… from the onslaught of all these gazes… people and time and peopled places… I wish to disappear… I wish to heal… someday… in the mountains…
“In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no-one sees you, but sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art.”
i am as patient as the mountain.
Thank you for sharing dear angel in the dust. 🙂
Warm light and beautiful words. The world needs more of both those things.
Thank you Tanya. It sure does.It’s so cold.