JAMES P HONEY - a song about a sunrise reflected in an office block

we became the still
staring at the building while all its windows gleamed
office block on fire
with the morning sunrise alive inside its glass
the reflection of the sky
might not be infinity to some but is for me
every passing wing
colliding beak to beak with itself then disappear
folding gold on gold
like the horizon described in my old filth
-
folding gold

[@finalov]

Так умиротворяюще, спасибо!

[@benedictebrehier-aubry3022]

Bravo !
C'est beau !

[@ABand0fBuriers]

merci

[@fjdivvjsnsna]

Pozdro z Polski.