La Paloma
The splayed light of an obliging red sunset
lays upon the darkening meadow
of windswept grass
Slow-moving fingers in a visible dance
wrap in quiet space
when moonlight silhouettes our hands as they bond
A falling star etches the night sky
burning its canvas like a struck match
vanishing as quickly as it came
The rush of life abates to a small distance
so we can free ourselves from outgrown nests
to float like doves on tender breezes
until we can fly when love is found
to lift the subtle wings of our souls
7/14/19
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