Her aqua skirt flows in the sky,
Like curtains of the gods they play;
A Monet brushstroke low to high
- Like life itself they go away.
But for now they dodge and weave
As in a phosphorescent pool;
A flirting dance before they leave,
Behind a veil of colored tulle.
Behind the veil are sapphire eyes,
Behind the skirt, there lies the night.
The curtains are a brief disguise;
Seductive show of pure delight.
Now deeper to the heavens drawn,
Within the night, before it's gone.
Craig Cornish for Archaic Poets Best Rhyme Contest