Poetry is free

Poetry is free
as the stars that set fire across the sky
and while you stare at them
Do you see your reflection
thrown back at you?

The moon spreads its light
out like branches, aligning itself
to the illimitable galaxies
in your eyes, immortal fountain of dreams

The night is quiet
as the golden wind wraps you in its breath
and listens to the sound of your lips
when they touch
and part, birds sigh in the trees

Because poetry is free and wild
running in the firmament
of a fleeting universe
Yet close enough
that when you close your eyes
to sleep
I dream.