The Horizon

you melt into the scene

the prickle of newly dressed grass

under toe connects you with all that is

mosquitoes hiss in your ear

they speak a dialect all their own,

“feed me the life source from the bone”

merrymaking for you is climbing

beyond the highest peak

of your understanding

the horizon awaits for you

honey twisting in and out

drizzled into a sherbet flare

decadent shades of paint send you soaring

through the celestial sphere

shadows of fireworks live here

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– Much love, Esha