I find you.

And I saw the stars buried under the romantic pink winter fog; puffing out
air of disappointment, yellow hue sublimes
into thin air shadows.
A pinkish red fragrance resides a mile outside the roses,
aligned strategically.
The passageway to Moon
morphs into thick, blind air, bumping into me thrice.
Dragon flies outside the sooty panes of the window,
hint me once,
twice,
“It’s the time”.
There aren’t stars but light.
There is no love left but hope.
Like homeless wind of lone Sahara,
my happiness slides over the snow of North
and,
I find you,
sinking and smiling.
As I look up the sky,
you jiggle and laugh.

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7 thoughts on “I find you.

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