Like lovers' whispered thoughts
Smoky mist clings close against the tree.
Tall, shrouded building stand cloud-soft
And fog-kissed sounds of night are muted low.
Not harsh nor ebony-black,
The sky is one with pavements blurred and gray.
The cheeks of passersby
Are softly touched as if with prayer. Poets Poets create gemstones.
Their flashing thoughts
Burrow within the heart and mind.
Like drops of amber,