The sun dries out hourly.
The trees climb up an invisible
latter.
My smile is contained by
an unseen matter.
The sky is magic, I've decided,
and switches its makeup look
to the shade of
Sudden Night.
Leaves turn into my tears
and fall
and fall
and fall.
Once I thought I saw you
in a living field of the color purple,
your lips exquisitely parted
and sitting like a painting, waiting for me to come,
meet them with my troublesome own.
My heart has never killed
its call
its call
its call
for you.
YOU ARE READING
SUNSHOWERS
Non-FictionA book of poetry. A book of tears. A book of blood and sweat, too. A book to hold me. Will you let it hold me?
