eve's sphereA Poem by m.s.earlyIts orange sherbet beams flow silk tapestry in rippling descent across the inky lake as an indigo tree line drapes an Egyptian Blue sphere in late eve. I, gazing on the orb, hunched in cooling grass curling about my elbows, sense a wisp of my innerness leaning, outright permissive to its strange quality. She calls me Amaris while it rises, condensing into an inch of silver against the caliginous curtain of night; the spell of the moon not as strong as her ensorcel. Vividly clouds uncover stars piercing their ceiling, but she who breaks the spell is not looking. Her eyes have become captors of the moon and me. From the placid leaps a perch, flip flop splashes in the still of the moment, and her enchantment is disrupted. Such quake leaves Luna's message garbled, and I escape the twain hexing; she focuses keenly, but I know better, her eyes are to forbear, the moonlight to be abjured. I, dejected and crestfallen, am inconsolable and dispirited. The moon will forever stretch as wide as her arms across placid lakes captured in her chocolate irises. I will pray for morning as I walk away, to sink the orb into bluer skies, to raise the cheery Sun, leaving her trite incantation sobbing in the waning silver of the moon.
© 2014 m.s.earlyAuthor's Note
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Added on March 11, 2014Last Updated on March 14, 2014 Authorm.s.earlyVAAbout"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -Salman Rushdie more..Writing
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