A former planet
whispers red
across stretches of black
moving away from you,
away, away

If you squint well enough
you will see no sky,
it left with the trees,
but there might be
an indentation, some sort
of step lost in a crevice

Pull back,
and the dust
is almost done
finds home
in a new role
holding hands
with a deepening

Written for Eugi’s Weekly Prompt.

Image courtesy of Pexels and Pixabay.