L'aura del Campo

Mute [145]

Mute

Before sunset,
before moonrise,
when storm clouds cry,
I think of you

always smiling
like morning dew.
I have no clue
what magic spins

from your wand's end;
you laugh wherein
you make me grin,
or smirk, or gush.

It's not easy
to hide my lust
for the stardust
caught in your hair.

I do not speak.
I never share.
I do not dare
to mouth my thoughts.

© Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.145] (19.juni.2021)

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