Friday, 18 January 2019

there was a day when the color of ash, was suddenly warm
as it spread over the sky'
The sun was a rose,
a coronation in the sky.
A crown of thorns gnarled at the edges,
and the sun wore it with a sad gracefulness.
The morning was pink and gray.
The thought of you going away.
I looked at the world;
I needed blinkers.
The gnarled branches that grew around the sun
were the remorseful bars of a prison.
They cracked and crumbled.
All the cardinal points opened.
The sunrays, like whitest doves
flew across. The taste of a freedom
in the quivering wings.
I shuddered
at the thought
The one just before the last thought.
The dove flew away silently through the cracks.
The sun let it fly.

Image credit: Pamela Dzaet Hill
Received via Ofelia Egptana
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