
The treetops are dirty
As the sun goes down
The wind is gentle
Through my fingers
~
Lines separating ages
And ages of things
Dusk is when I sing
Where I disappear
I come alive
In the colors
The calmness of the day
The piles of thoughts
~
Another dimension
Flirting incandescently with
The times we’ve had
And maybe the times we’ll have
Dusk is when I sing alone
Wonderful photo and poem! 🤗❤️❤️❤️🌹
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you so much! ☺️❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person