Pregnant Morn

Light caramel breeze

floods over the seas.

Sunrise wades

into our lives,

amber light

of promise, weaving

butterscotch drops.

Cobalt veil lifts

as night surrenders

to pregnant morn,

bleeding colors

and life

into layers

of our skin.

Our eyes

echo soft hues, as

we watch golden orb

continue its path,

struggling

to grasp life

in yearning hands,

ingrained perfectly

in formed memories

of this moment

in time.

You whisper

your dreams in

impressionist light

but I tint them

with my own afterglow,

trapped in my own

reverie of luminosity.

Without hearing

your rosy words,

I turn to see

that you are gone,

the sound

of seagulls fades.