On Waratah Nights

I sit in the dark, as far off the scent of Waratah wafts reminding me of you, my mouth curves a memory, as my face tilts the moon, her red veils run up my chest faraway down the road we may meet again across a canyon of time, our eyes will connect I often wonder what yours will dare tell me, at the first dawning will a ray of remembrance burst through your iris or will our words of anger sour every glance, turning those blue eyes opaque I live in wonder, I breathe forgiveness and only god knows who you are anymore but the waratah, ever blooms of you and sickle moons in my smiles so hope lives on the whispered sense of night, and maybe only in my heart