Afterlove

Between the fading twilight and the smell of night
When the clouds, blushing red, sung to us of promised lands;
We dreamt in soft, timid whispers.

"Kiss me."

"Only if you let me kiss your hair first."

"You're mad!"

"No.The redness of my love has made me red."

And how I loved you.

But the songs of nightwind are easy to forget
When the sun begins to melt into the sky.
Unmasked then, moments die unfinished.

"You're too mad for me, and your hair too wild."