The fleeting moment when
Dusk conflates with the rising dawn
And all that was ever loud

Falls, to a million tiny pieces, at the feet of morning.
Her still quiet
Tears apart the knick-knack thoughts

That you had displayed
Like a dreamscape reflection,
Spread like ashes on the windowsill.

The wind breathes soft
On the back of your neck and behind your ears
Ghost kisses under the blanket of day.