Even with all the rose petals
Draped over his eyelids, he
Can still make out crimson
Smiles and blue-silver gazes, she is
The color of San Francisco.
Hers is a gray of vivacity,
Obscure, intricate, hazy,
And yet she glows.
Glows brighter
Than fire or gold,
Diamonds or moonlight,
as if she has not yet been
reached.
He throws tiny pebbles
From the sidewalk
Into the atmosphere
And smiles.
Among a million moments,
His with her
Will last a thousand years.
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