The Evening held her breath, and then
let night lick a trail of stars down her spine--
yielding like Daytime said she would
with purple smudged eyes,
a bored yawn,
and her heart too splintered by constant goodbyes to care anymore.
Or, that's what she said
to Evening's roseblue face
as she ripened over the aging afternoon,
staining the sky's edge with the filament of her touch...
But, she meant something else,
meant to say,
"Night will leave you
to come back to me anyway...
just like he always does,
wedded to my sunrise."
These words never left her mouth...
just that yawn
and a sky-full of mourning doves.
This fragment was written for a Poetry Thursday exercise where we "borrowed" a line offered by another poet and included it in our work. So I thank Pauline for her line "Evening held (it's) breath, and then"...for this little poetry fragment. To see what others came up with (and to read my feature if you haven't yet), head on over...Remember, April is (inter)National Poetry Month! Poetry matters...it matters quite a lot to all of us who live, breathe, and try to bear witness to this world we share.