looking through branches catching this sherbet sunset through different views, mighty is a fortress angled amongst dipping hallows as they weave groove. the branches brittle, yet hold quite an aubergine scene there’s peach, pinks, and yellows, look, there’s even soft lavender too. they seem to be dancing, oh my, on soft feminine slopes, now listen: giggling dancing hues want to be noticed. a hush of snow takes on some gray, but doesn’t Winter, as she holds steady against warm days, generally fade this way?
as our sun sets I reach for you a hint please, if even this exists. why would I question your strength surrounds me the wind becomes your touch the geese flying behind me speak the words I long to hear yet, in a language I cannot understand. my eyes settle on tangerine hues as my world settles in for the night. I sigh good evening, my love, where have you been and where shall we go?
Shakespeare wrote of the future-
“an undiscovered country”. I see,
new rituals and
their meaning, which
will anchor along
where souls squeal
in delight, and life
no longer vacant, thrives.
You’re always right.
Our day over yet?
What do you think?
Stop… just tell me.
I miss you.
I was right over there.
I saw you.
Do I get an explanation?
Will I ever?
Sit with me.
as dusk departs and night arrives, i’m caught up in a mythological moment, aphrodite falls for apollo, right before my eyes. indescribable, I know I’d only blow it, so I sit back with a defeated laugh. left wondering, where might I find myself a poet, who could write of a sunset like that?
amber layers rest upon goodnight, while an obsidian anchorage awaits confusing darkness with light might have been her first mistake nothing comes from a starless sky but an endless plea, more questions left naive, with no honest answers why sweet girl, that’s how this always happens
Poetic thoughts shatter,
Like glass across a sky of azure.
You arrive on bits of final sunshine,
My mysterious muse.
You capture my presence tonight,
And I feel you inside my wistful soul,
As you voluntarily watch me,
Waiting in the calm twilight.
The final line written by, my girl, Morgan. It is no secret that I adore her poetry, so last week when she wrote the line “waiting in the calm twilight” I mentioned being envious, and then there was some banter and a challenge. I’m following through with using her perfect line in my poem tonight, but mine will pale in comparison once you’ve read her Friday Fantasy poem from last week. You’ll see… ♡ Thanks for letting me borrow your words, Morgan.