The air is warm and streets are empty hallways
Acacia scents now permeate your strife,
The sorrel sunset left you in a daze
Depicting dreams of a forgotten life.
Translucent mirrors feed in the crimson sun
Outlining hope like glimmers through the leaves…
It’s afternoon yet life has just begun –
A mockingbird singing under the eaves.
Wind lightly sweeps the rue upon your brow
And moments stretch like rubber in the sun,
Even the shelf is now on a furlough
If time had legs it wouldn’t want to run.
TheThoughtsOfNeaGrigore 