this is enough
Two shadows in velvet fur,
anchored gently in the hush
between breath and breeze.
The swing doesn’t creak—
it listens, cradling the questions
of creatures made of dusk.
They do not speak of time,
for even the moon has forgotten
her hours, and the sky wears
its colours like a loose watercolour
robe, blurring morning and memory.
They see not contrast, but curiosity—
night gazing at light, like two commas
in a sentence the sky hasn’t finished.
And maybe they don’t want it to end.
To be still, to wonder— this is enough.
Poetry by anonface
Written on 2025-07-02 at 14:12
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