It was the glare of the 3 AM streetlamp
casting its phosphorescent shade of
green doubt through the webbed
veil of the menacing hemlock.
Curling wisps of smoky waft
drifted upon a b-minor fretboard...
the watery chord was held captive
in an icy stare showdown
until
sweeping gestures of love-lit glance
graced the gaze to the triple pink glow
of the charmed faux gas lamp up the street;
softening, soothing, satisfying.
The new moon sleeps soundly
under the cloak of velvet darkness...
lullaby, bon soir.
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The imagery here is just brilliant Wendy! Keep it up!!!
ReplyDeleteThank you Opaque! Just conquering the remnants of those late night fears.
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