Each day, grey hair falls from
a place once full of colours.
I am reminded of invisibility,
the way I fade into the light.
Within the moon’s darkness
I become increasingly visible.
The garden knows who I am,
and a soft breeze touches me.
The moon and I, we made
a pact of sorts
within the depths of the night.
She, the moon
takes my invisibility from me,
for words with her.
Our discussion ends by the
movement of many clouds.
A breeze becomes a wind,
to accompany the thunder.
The fallen grey hairs begin
their journey into the night.
I enter the house of words,
to travel the colours of sleep.
When the grey of day arrives,
from the moon-lit night,
our words will carry me along.
C & K 