Dry spell
On a summer day
the wind become standstill,
my memories enmesh
in the heap of dry leaves,
faces close enough
to feel the warmth,
silence fall back-
the tiny bird disappears.
the hand reaches out
after a brief pause,
the soft touches never
travel along the trodden track,
blazing tall trees
wisely leaving
the rain drop behind,
to taunt the tearful eyes.
The hunter moon suspend low tonight
across welcoming dark skies
hiding stars that glimmer
virtually every night
A colossal reddish globe
slowly drop behind tall trees
vanishing as I try to arrest its majesty
in a forever-photogenic image
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