The heart of love
is too slippery to hold.
It refuses to be tamed,
defying capture.
Instead, it draws all those who seek it
out into the unknown
following elusive paths
led on by hints and whispers
ever hoping for one
full, untainted moment in
the heart of love.

Clouds,
like fading brush strokes,
come off the mountains
to line the darkening sky.

Could it be
I see the hills
slowly losing their souls,
blown free
by dusk and twilight?