Spring Grass
Dreamy piano notes accompany our steps. Beneath our feet— sway a thousand small straws of green, organic silk. Our steps are fragile and uneven. Your hand is sweaty yet cold and dry At the same time. From your eyes fall small, mournful drops that pollinate the plain— Leaves keep them company while I long for oxygen. I am losing breath, mourning the loss of time. Your gaze is ripe, your dandelion pupils dance through the spring of the night. With every step your hand slides. Each elusive second— I fear you might let go.
Cover Art: Patch of Grass by Vincent Van Gogh, 1887



Ugh, I somehow missed this until just now. Wow, what a closing line. Very nice.