Tonight I stared at a salmon blue gray sky
As it bid me goodbye; I smiled.
Why is it the goodbyes that we remember?
I can remember that sly wave you gave,
Was it a reflex gesture, just a twitch?
My mind thought it more repressed allure.
Oh maybe too much poetry adds fiction.
It tries to add traction to feelings
And a ceiling and wall to elusive love.
So I walked on with a painted smirk
Oh to act like a jerk is not in the cards
And on que, a full moon rose in the east.
By Dave Schipper © 2010 Rose Riversongs