upon the cascading wind
you are the dreams that soar

Pale skin
white as snow-
with a simple touch
your fingertips...

it leaves nothing/empty

the faint blush of colour
a sense of feeling
while i'm drawing your soul
with shades of
and black.

Carried upon the breeze,
those tamarisk lips, whispers-
like silent prayers

and the words still try
describe describe:


(the painting of a dream
beyond expression)

July 29, 2007

A/N: for a contest, inspiration from a picture: