Every Blissful Moment

What is the green in bending leaves we hear so clear from all the moment’s parting air. Could we insert ourselves between that pair and be where we have always been, yet newly there. Unconscious beauty will ignore all raptured stare setting suns indifferent to our adoration’s care, allowing her flowers to bloom out loud, applying white of every cloud, to sky of blue. Allowing paler whispers of a quiet hue descend as field of stars and cover you. Free distribution of properties unique, even in proportion to our breath before we speak, whether whisked away or held in its abatement, suspended to the finish of her kiss then faint back into normal life away from momentary bliss.