October 29 2023, Rahil Najafabadi’s “Indigo”

The most common time I stand to watch you,
you emerge as there is no more day, and we cease
to the silence of farm breezes and some beads
that make noise in the absence of conversation.
No more people so there is much sorrow, like the color
of the sky while we meet. Now is the moment––
I know you are made of oceans and navigation.
You can’t stay to see the indigo of dawn,
But the ride to your deserted thoughts is colored too.
Red anger and blushed love all meshing with
the numbness that we feel when we turn gray.