Moon at Half Past Noon

With breath as our brush 

We paint unspoken wishes 

Chimes that ring for no rhyme or reason

Or the paper swans that need a magical touch to fly

Our hearts one …

In life’s brief pause for desire

Our flesh tingles, when the wind

Whistles through every pore 

We pickle, fast fading memories 

That hide in embraces and

Their manifold attires

Our hearing sharpened 

We listen to each footstep

As If time itself walks floating by 

Like a miracle walking in the water

 We see better, as we look for each other

We see shadows,

Chimera, ghost, hope, reality, tear, a sigh 

But, when we breathe, we breathe

Seeing ourselves, liberated captives that are free