Hues of silver
melting into bronze
as the magic of twilight
paints the canvas of life.

The liquid of murmurs
and the wind of sighs,
a willow tree fragrance
and a pillow of sand.

In silence,
surrounded by the screams,
with eyes wide open
overtaken by a dream.

When the moon came
to share its light
the cry of a nightingale
ripped through the night.

Fast flowing water
and the rocks that scar,
a battle of elements
as old as time.

On the river bank,
nested in the grass,
innocence smiling
reaching for the stars.

Fireflies and fairy tales —
pearls made of dew
with the first ray of light
eyes closed to the world.

Blue hues and purple sky,
and twilight was called to take a bow.
Nothing is true when shadows rule
opening eyes to the world.

~ Iva