On the edge of happiness

Waiting in the garden
for a voice to take my pen
to burn on the breezes
the sackful of fuel, abundant
yet out of view
patient but bursting

the light
waning
coy behind the cloud
dragging
to the shadows
the words I wish to say

Our star, peeping
back lighting the distant petals
draws me ever closer
an attempt to bridge the beauty
within, without
separated by something I don't remember

nothing comes.
But there the perfect scent
texture a silk
blues, reds, creams
colouring the briefest second
that I thought I'd lost forever.