I am willing to sink into the sound of night’s changing secrets where the world sees my breath wipe away the tears mirroring its pain. Smiles are caught on fire, wooed by this poet, but do not reflect the same.
Instead of playing under trees, I allow everything to be swept away by the winds on the soft petals of a voice. A voice that empties all its brilliance into our sleep comes to see our smiles rejoice.
Life is exhibited in dirt from the bottom of my shoe yet never utters a word. Still, I will never wave goodbye to thoughts that turn. Does anyone ever really understand the smiles a poet burns?
I welcome hands that hush the existence of whispered memories lighting candles dwelling in our minds. If you knew what was on the line, would you be willing to sink into night’s sound in kind?