The Watcher

Childish wind plays with chimes

In a scarred, burnt red sky,

The smell of night is near.

Your silence is broken breath

With lost concern you gaze upon me

Coming first in my dreams, my thoughts

Locked by gentian dewdrop eyes

Your appearance remains unknown.

Aroma from translucent skin scents the crude air.

Your gossamer features captivate me

Starting with the glow of you bald head

To the gleams of your tattered feet

Abstract wings illuminating you angled body

You always leave footprints in the transparent garden

Presenting me with a violet from glass fingertips

So, you sit, perched

On my window sill

As slumber entangles us

Published
Categorized as poetic

By black_button

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