Monday, March 24, 2008

the gift


the same strange dance for six years straight

the conqueror of the moon's quiet pale face

with her sly September grins

she's carrying a bouquet of northern lights

clutched close to her cradle

red running wild

she sees his last smile

underneath the sheets

where bright nights dim

in time, in tune with the receeding winds

remembering green tides of times frozen

she's searching all day on December beach

for a calm spot to lay

her final gift to him...

2 comments:

CY said...

I hope this isn't as final as it sounds.
And grabbing hold of northern lights sounds incredible! It'd be like dancing in the skies. Thanks for image, snakedance.

snakedance said...

You are very very welcome!
There are more words to come....
it was more of a final moment.
but just a moment...
I have decided to continue with it.