grain

cyanotic whispers slither

between heartbeats

like a river ribbonning its shores

among almond trees

and night sways its liquid ebony hips

over endless fields of thoughts –

if we could stop the flow of sand

how would we ever know

that one perfect grain at which to break

the hourglass?

on my shoulder

the song of a nightingale mirrors in your breath.

© Liliana Negoi 2022

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