Exposure and color

will come in tones

by the sensible fingertip

and desire beneath

the sound of the beach

is the same as it looks

the smell of thin air

and the taste of cherries.

Brightness and contrast,

an everlasting cycle of sight,

like embossed sand grain

filtering between the toes.

Day and night,

warm and light,

and the depth of the skies

will come around in sound.

When I'm alone with trees

I close my eyes and hear them whisper.

When I'm alone with flowers

I close my eyes and hear them dancing.

Everytime sadness comes desaturated,

the greyscales build their symphonies

just to hear the reveries and remedies

of a world spinning round,

it's complicated.