You conjure the part of a whisper
ever moving yet yearning
for a realization,
a soul spoken signal
that opens up traffic lights
to finally clear a connection.
The red hues pull me back
and I am beyond the line,
hand written desire visible.
I never have run open-handed
without a worry how I will sound
when my mouth is free.
Be the autumn truth
let me hear your improvised
lovely state of mind,
no hesitations for we create
a new eyesight only concerning
the visuals of us.
