In twilight a living cloud of words take flight.
The wind blows high throughout the night,
Emerging from mind's dark cave.
Light comes in mysterious waves,
Turning the pages of memories
To the births and deaths to the summer we moved.
A bent page folds a black corner,
Above your face,
As morning yawns its wakening
Down a sandy lane,
Velvet humming lifts billows of
White clouds high above