The moon has interlocked the night in glass.
Trees are no more than dark designs on grass.
The mood of music opens like a flower.
A scent of coffee validates the hour.
One wonders how two shadows can embrace.
For after all, time leaves so little space.
Only the smallest whisper of a word,
Makes old friends know emotion has been heard.
The landscape is a poem memorized,
Wednesday, April 18, 2007