Arena

  Sand

your shadow of moon reflected

the blue of your eyes

declining toward an abyss.

The freshness of the night in your hands

transfer my hair

was simple and feel good

well as birds in flight beyond.

Weather conjugated anxious

the ephemeral moment…

A silent wings

and the murmur of the wind

sleep in my skin now silent

your sweet lips and traveling away.

                                                                    R.R.