Thursday, October 25, 2007

Sinking Sun

When the yellow sun sank low,
and the sky danced in its colour,
we sat and whispered in little spoonfuls.
A little splash of mouth-to-mouth,
a burst of love, spirited one to float on clouds.

Now the sun still sinks low,
dipping into nothingness,
but only one person stands,
no little kiss to splash, no warm
embrace to light the touch.

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