2016

At last a smile...

At last a smile,
Too quickly fading leaves.
Where did this flush of cheek simmer from?
And what of my words?
Were it not for my eyes reflected in yours?
Was it not a moment?
That gentle tremor of lips amused,
Beyond whim,
After dark without.

(Pencil drawing 2006)

© MARCO MOONE 2008

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