dusk 1

In the depth of my slumber,
I could make out an almost magical figure from yonder,
An angel I thought, but how orthodox of me to subscribe to that school of thought, Maybe its was because her dress hid her feet so that she seemed to be hovering above the ground,
One side of her dress danced to the silent song of the wind,
And the other outlined her volumptous body.
The sun was sinking fast behind her,
Its sight momentarily blinding me.
Her rich exotic fragrance tickled my nostrils even before I regained vision.
And there she was right before me,
An angel I had thought,
But now it didn’t matter that she had no wings,
That her eyes were brown not blue,
Her smile burst waves through me more warmly than the rays of the sun ever could. I opened my mouth but not so much as a whisper came out.
Of all days my larynx had chosen to betray me then.
And as fast as she had come she was headed back.
A deep wave of sadness engraved me and I could hardly move,
And it didn’t seem to help that the overgrown roots seemed to swathe my feet, I could only see her posterior motion silhouetted against the deep orange sunset,an inch less with every blink as she too sunk into the horizon.
Then came the breeze again, this time i hoped it would be strong enough to blow her back,
But all it did was blow past the dry oak branches and made them creek,
A creek that sounded like a laugh,a mock,a gibe. TWICE I HAD SEEN THE SUN SET THAT EVENING.

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