An Immortal Demise
Streaks of light
in splendid symmetry,
Carefully crocheted clouds,
A tailor-made semicircle.
A stolen moment.
My eyes fixated on the
fiery blaze under its veil,
A blood orange kiss on
every blue cloud’s tip.
He slips with every
tug at the cord,
As the silvered moon
rose on her smoky sled
Heavy clouds drag themselves,
mourning along the
sodden cold night...
Until the dimmed stars
gleamed into spotlight.
As though a Japanese fan,
The spine tingling sky
has folded itself
into the night.
Winter or summer,
dusk always sheds a
lingering iciness behind:
Didn’t today just die?
Copyright © Nia Feren | Year Posted 2020
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