Moments trail from our arms
like silk scarves, lightweight,
some lost on the way.
We cut through the blue
in small silver planes, the day
distorted in our wake.
Our vapor messages
a heart…a face…
diffuse into soft shapes
the sky disappears.
Moments trail from our arms
like silk scarves, lightweight,
some lost on the way.
We cut through the blue
in small silver planes, the day
distorted in our wake.
Our vapor messages
a heart…a face…
diffuse into soft shapes
the sky disappears.