In Held Hands

The sky melted in the distance
smeared in hues of the setting sun,
the land an endless sea of colors
sunk in silence a hundred deep.

Two weary souls, dressed by wispy air
in naked scent of rain soaked turf,
found one clear path, an infinite escape
that stretched to meet a far off aim.

They spoke in warm and simple words
of coming days and those long gone by
of what one liked, what not so much
and held hands through miscues of sway.