The sounds of so many chirping crickets
Make the corners of the world seem just right
As I dream of pastel-colored sunsets.
My eyes follow the last pink blaze of light
Which fades away into the wings of time
As I draw my breath in awe of the sight.
My mind goes wandering to metered rhyme
With poems flashing through my inspired soul.
Brand new language forming phrases sublime.
The vestiges of daylight waning gold
Branding flames upon the flesh of the night.
The impressions of these moments made bold.
And so, I come to see what pastel height
Can take my dream and make it linger bright. |
