Golden Hours

During the golden hours,

She gazes

at the eloquent movement of the clouds

Breathing in the subtle sky’s flares.

The dreamlike glint she has in her eyes

since the age of 5.

Gentle mellifluous wind blowing against her skin,

her warm brown hair

brushing against her coy shoulders.

The harmony of his thoughts, dancing in her mind.

And she wishes that under this same affable sky,

serendipity will unite her with him.

All, when the warm hues shower.



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