Tabebuia rosea.
Pink trumpets so they call.
Over ponds and creeks.
High above,
Between the blue sky and you.
Gloriously, it covers.
The leftovers from the winter shed.
Giving life.
As the north wind bellows away.
Taking with it, the stoicism.
As the petals fall
Like an otherworldly dance.
In a ball.
An evening, under a full moon,
where eyes meet.
Pink trumpets so they call,
Casting shadows over stone walls.
Sun, a magnificent orange.
Drowning towards slumber,
Its soul, shimmering through.
I stand,
Under the blue sky and you,
Shadows over a stone frame,
As the petals fall.
Dancing the moon welcome.
Tabebuia rosea. You.
YOU ARE READING
Depths
PoetryIt's not been too long since I started writing. But I've found peace in writing unlike anything else. Here are my thoughts, what I feel, what I see, my perceptions, and my imagination. Welcome.
