Sandra Fowler - Duskscape

I am addicted to your spare landscape.
Each dropp of rain is distinct as a tear.
A lemon touch of old sun scores the mind.
Joy chafes our subtle thoughts into a flame.

Strong music would be hurtful to the mood.
A whisper has the power to cross seas.
I meet you on the dusk bridge of your choice.
Nothing is foreign to the color blue.

Time mixes metaphors in shades of smoke.
The palette pleases the discerning eye.
A shadow bird sings to the falling air.
That song goes with us to infinity.

Copyright, Sandra Fowler,2008

Sandra Fowler

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/duskscape/