Like the pale purple tinge of sky

that you missed

when you watched the sun set

over the sea.

 

Like the rounded stone on the river bed

that you stepped on

as you crossed the turbulent stream

at dawn.

 

 

Like the lines of unstructured verse

you do not read

but say you will, someday

when you have the time.

 

I wait.

 

For our paths to cross again

for reflections of the purple sky

composed in flowing rivulets

to be captured in verse.