Will You

You are a bubble floating between the folds of an Indian summer,

a whimsy composed of multi-chrome curves.

Borne aloft by baritone breaths, you drift by

until I cup you in my palms;

but I am terrified to touch you, afraid that the instant

your shimmer touches skin you will burst,

the rainbows of scattered sunset splayed across your surface

rendered an evanescent mist in this evanescent evening.  

Reviews

[bobc]

Ben...my only comment is the repetition of 'evanescent' in the last line. Maybe another word might work for you. Otherwise, liked this...bob