Unnamed

It was all about the moon caressing your long curly hair;

the hesitation of the saltiest teardrop

before saying farewell to your eye,

explaining pretty well the trace it left behind.

Every rose bush saw the wind heading your way,

when the insanity of the summer heath took over the allies

and left a thick layer of dust on all the afternoon hours.

Was it the wind,

        was it the moon

   or maybe the desperate night sky?

Which was the first to notice?

A footstep was sure to be held guilty for treason,

a single innocent footstep

and somewhere along the way,

the sinful scent of rose petals teasing with the wind;

and if not that, then surly every blushing butterfly

flying by.

There was far too much to give you out.

So everyone stood there watching,

   shocked,

         amazed,

              astonished

      and definitely numb.

As the brutal rays of sunlight reflected from the blade

everyone knew there was no turning back.

What harsher punishment, than to stand in perfect silence

and be aware that watching is all one is going to accomplish...