The Scenery of Us

Peach clouds tumble over an

autumn morning.

Cool, almost impeccably sharp


Soft, light, feathery, cushioning the


A collision of ecstasy


Frozen grass breathing again with

the morning dew on its blades.

Birds break the silence of the night;

singing their last goodbye before winter descends:

The birthing of vibrancy


The clouds turn gray, raindrops

disrupt the pond water below.

Shyly, the sun pushes its rays

around bends and corners onto the meadow

Colors spatter the darkened daytime sky:

Blindness becomes vision



Opening my eyes

I realize

There are not clouds rolling over


There are no morning doves

There are no rainbows


Only your lips brushing

against mine

Only your fingers caressing

all of my dips and curves

Only you and I

This poem is about: 
Our world


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