Poezja

When silence stays alone
in the hollow of the eyes,
would you come?
In the audacity of
beauty and pain, when
the moon does not rise.
Like beggars the clouds
roam, parting the
sky for a glimpse of a vision.
We will speak like
strangers not looking into the eyes.
Not quite sure-
you blinked. Time to return
back the gifts of ocean
profound and deep.
Pearls, tears and half-angel.