Whisper Poem by Robert Combs

it is evening and
no one has seen us
walking hand in hand
through the dimpled twilight
as the navy blue night descends

there is a constant fiesta
of bright and dark colors that scatter
across stark plateaus
sleeping beneath the tree-tops
where a window appears and
I reach out to steal for you
a pinch of sunbeam
before the moment passes

with my soul nestled in
the hollow of your palm
your words breathe in me like the crystal
gulf breeze of this Atchafalaya morning
it is that whisper of you
that keeps me dreaming