Sunday, November 11, 2012

Scattered books, exposed arms in the early

Scattered books, exposed arms in the early
morning, the whispers and sighs of weather
outside the window. I opened her short letter
and read the words, I had waited for nearly

an hour for the Moon the rise. The southerly
winds were pushing moisture, she is better
than any beloved I've imagined. I can't get her
within my apprehension, I am now utterly

lost without her light. The pale and mellow
pinks and blues of the sky color the love
I have for her. The flat and stretching low

clouds are purple. She is the perched dove
on the powerlines, the Sun becoming yellow
as it takes the sky and slowly starts to move.

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