Poets' Practice Pad

The Instant

In high spirits,
did you smile just now
in crimson or magenta
and simply raise
your head from
the flowery pillow?

A dash of coloring
on your cheeks, a blush,
effortless and unplanned;
so much of my delight
depends on it,
since the target of fancy
depicts the creases
trailing the dimples
to the emeralds
of your eyes.

Much of my sense of things
catches the instants
we’re in step together
in inevitable waves,
wishing I could compose
a tune for this.






Sig by karjia96

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