Painting the sky

Watching the sunset
painting the sky
outside the train,
I can't refrain
from thinking
of your sweet smile
and tenderly coloured hair,
tiny drops of balm
for my baby soul.

Every day
the ever-present,
ever-human
filth of life
overwhelms me,
and all I have,
all we have,
is love
and tiny drops of tenderness,
randomly beautiful
gifts of the universe.



[Toscana, 22/11/2015]