the moment where the sun starts to disappear drastically.
the tender touch of gentle non rehearsed music brushes my ear.
the wind blows softly, not enough to make chills, just enough to send the sent of flowers briskly browsing.
the fragile feeling of my heart jump as desire creeps.
the louder beats of the acoustic hit heatedly.
the stopping stand towards my destination.
the need to be hidden is profoundly pondering.
the tree thrusts an image of my fright.
the way thumps hit the hard gravely ground.
the clutches climb my weight higher as the music precedes with more visible melody.
the sight is hidden, but there is precise peace.
the branches brake outward as my smile grows and the sound intrudes.
the time comes where the sun is no longer sightly seen.
the watched walk home is my answer to not being alone.
the beats increase, steps are followed and acoustic admires.
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