Set in that does not, a shadow rehearsing
With the images in the mirror,
A sharply drawn sketch
Pitch in the wind followed by whisper,
Eyes seek shelter in laser like focus.
Long fingers, lean arms in a balancing act,
Favourite colours are brown and grey
Only small talks and stale words,
Memories of past resurface,
Love is now a non-existent punctuation.
The tall candle burns quickly,
Can’t wait to get past midnight,
A thin film of dust removed from the glass
Outside, the moon needs tending
On a rough windy nights.