Illusive quiet footsteps upon cold pavement,
Following stealthily upon grey hard cement,
Drawing gold whispers upon hot desert sands,
Graffiti sketched, by passing & invisible
hands.
Old echoes tiptoeing, over green forest floors,
Softly flighty & flying, over lavender´s moors,
Upon night ceiling, where dreams go dancing,
Within their fingers, my fantasies, enhancing.
Disappearing, when gold sunshine softly sighs,
When sleep goes breathing & the night moth
dies,
Shadows, friends who visit & then go on their
way,
Leaving me wishing, that they would stay to play.
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