Softly flows the sunset colors
painted on tired skies with fire
Igniting a wafting cloud in orchid tints,
the fresh scent of pine lingering within its escape

Drowsy horizons boast their claim
along seaside waverings in salted mist
Romance swims on shorelines engulfed
with all of the pageantry a white cap stanza can bring

And I whistle as I walk along,
taking in this wonder that has followed me home
Resting on a porch swing, feet off the ground
as morning glories sleep beyond white painted balustrades

Satin fingers intertwine with mine,
milk pudding lips bring their flavor to me
Luscious frosting in a whipped frenzy
coating my mouth in sugary mass

I point to the sky, the stars they beckon,
heart shaped constellations for two
Twinkling in your twilight eyes
as I reach for my pen and pad

Only to realize that this indeed is my imagination,
lounging on a worn out sofa, tattered cushions,
empty beer cans acting like so many wishes
leaving wet rings on a table, but who cares

There was a time when poetry flowed
from these lonely fingers
in paisley emotions and violet scentings
climbing the arbor of love

But since you left,
leaving behind the shadows which claim my eyes
my ink is dry and my paper tossed, tiny ***** in random patterns
on a floor that begs carpeting, but only bares soiled footprints

As I struggle to my feet, to the front window
desperately waiting for the grass to grow and daisies…
I stab the wooden sill with my pen, I need it no more, for…
there is no poetry without you…and never will be again