The warmth grows between rain showers,
But the foggy nights are easing,
And I see the stars against a blue-grey sky
Not as vibrant as against the pitch black of deeper night,
But this is the way it was back then
And the air is electric with thought
Like back then,
And words paint pictures
Like back then
And those words I can’t speak,
I try to capture with other creativity,
But I hold back still,
As much as I can,
But in another life
Another world
Words will flow free,
And yet for us
still remain
unnecessary
She of Letters 