Onthecuspofthecrescentmoon

On the cusp of the crescent moon
I'll wait for you
dauntless
I'll incase the falling star
flaring out behind  your head
filligree the lacy work of fire
sequins sizzle
snip snap
strum the whiskey from your
fingers
who so ever  turns the hourglass
uncoils the skein
smothers the fire
smoldering embers
ignite no more
I am  now just 
a smudge on your cheek
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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