Your archway is paved
in glimmering gold,
a shimmer stare
that caresses softly like
fingertips on smooth skin
on moonlit nights.
I sneak beneath the inky sky,
into the pale reflections
rippling with the winter wind
and your hand is a window
to rushed breaths on glass,
fogging and disappearing
as quickly as they came.
The stars glint in the sky,
hesitating precariously,
as though they might fall into our hands
lighting up like comet-tails,
casting a glow upon
our seasoned palms.
I lean in and realize
that the lustrous silvery light
is not the moon,
patterned and crater-filled,
or the stars itching to drop from above,
but instead:
you.
I sigh and close my eyes
at last, peaceful,
knowing I am not
alone.
Whatever you want to say. Critiques, anything. :)
Comments
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lovely.
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and you said you couldn't right positively. This is beautiful.
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