morning walk

the artist in the sky
starts with
a delightful pink on clouds
and another colour
I cannot describe
a jet travelling far above
leaves a fishbone in its wak

and on the other end
the moon waits for a glimpse
like a lover reluctantly leaving
to play a part
in a world different

where someone waits
I hope my words
find their way
to that someone
on her evening walk
maybe she has caught
a glimpse of the setting sun
maybe she too is listening
to bridge across troubled waters
like I am