Night

the sun 
         dips
             beneath
                       the
                    horizon,

leaving the last pools of light to evaporate in the darkness

slowly as though not to startle earth,

stars 

       d  

         an

            ce  

        

                  onto 

                         our 

                              sky

and the black of night is joined by the slow waltz of luminescent, white-gold balls

some nights, they come shimmering in,

in preparation for mistress moon

so beautiful is she,

like a pining lover

she waits, slowly fading,

wasting away till she is naught a   sliver 

                                                      of 

                                                         fine

                                                              ivory, 

            

              suspended in the night.

disappearing, to return later.

and once again she shall slip into sight,

                                     

                                      face

the                            her 

     wisp                on 

            of a smile

coming and going with the grace of a lady

so do not slumber through all nights,

for some are made for more than that

some exsist for sweaters 

and chamomile tea

and a solitary salty pearl, 

  rolling 

       down 

   your 

cheek

as you emphasize with the lady of the night

in her gradual departure,

waiting for the lover that will never come.

by: aven lee elliott

thursday, january 10, 2013