The breeze stopped blowing,
whispering secrets no more.
Stood still in awe
of the paradise around.
Yearning to shine bright,
the North Star, faintly visible,
took its first breaths
of that stellar night.
Red and Orange mingled.
The horizon was a death bed,
the mighty Sun lay on it.
One last caress.
One last kiss.
Down went the mighty Sun,
the last of its brilliance
gobbled by the Death Bed.
Night had fallen.
she perched by the window;
fog on her glasses
from the steaming mug of coffee
clutched in her hands;
eyes on the words
etched on the pages
engrossed in a world
far from ours;
leaves meandering
in the lightly blowing breeze
birds twittering in the distance;
cars racing off the highway
chasing frivolous nothings,
detached from the reality around
engrossed in a world
far from ours;
sunlight shimmering
off the crevices of her neck
tawny hair astray,
soundlessly speaking lips
devouring tales
of love and romance
engrossed in a world
far from ours.
Whimsical Wordsmith 