Purple Premonitions

 it's the hour of the purple premonitions,
 the hour the night falls into the space
 between our lips, just before the first kiss.
 we drift, disappear into frozen realms,
 exhausted and astray, only a granite bench to sit on.
  
 and the choice - never there;
 you - the ultimate King of the invincible North,
 i - almost-a-forever Queen of the moonlit South,
 we follow twisted identities and foreign myths;
 you vanish with the scent of surrendered jasmine,
 and I trace the alphabet of broken times.
  
 evanescent are the stars as well, the answers,
 the mirrors reflecting the souls of white roses,
 soaked in cool darkness - we escape – 
 from ourselves, from each other.
  
 it's the hour of the purple premonitions,
 we hide the first 'I love you’ in the colours of fireflies 
 and we wait quietly for the summer …
  
 @ BT/2020