the fog dances as a shadow that worries about the weather and the rainy season when longing turns into a rumbling wind, sighing at you, the ancient rhythm of the song, the seconds of your restless seconds, your restlessness while waiting in whispers of weeds on the grass leaves that receive dew and drizzle sincerely as a burst of surrendering hair on the clear silence of conversation dripping one by one flowing in the curves of the petals of roses and frangipani petals in rainbow colors at the bottom of your heart which is secret, blue, sky, dream, dream as silent as a lake, the horizon is quieter than a stone that is silent, no sobs sadly, keeps a journey in your chest because of the twilight which sinks into the night, drowns the sun and flashes purple orange to the pale moon to the twinkling of stars as a sadness that makes them tremble because the light is misleading the birds who want to go home and rest as if they have been misled by the question as an apple that is eaten with a vengeance drunk with lust for the other. eternal because ever h is recorded on the verandah echoing the gulls of the seagulls among the foam of the waves and the storm that beats the boats with the waves and currents until your voice is an echo that clinks between squeaks and shrieks knocking knocking on the windows of your heart like clocks say that send blood through your veins as the wind age years, months, thundering days, howling, breaking branches, pulling trees from their roots, shedding pistils and fruit, until your eyes keep the coals of fire, which will soon turn to ashes. Your hope is thus your love will be preserved as dust in time.
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From @penyaircyber