The night molasses air
holds aloft a full moon,
No love note passes.
The moon, holds back her mystical spell;
the barefoot bridesmaid walks on gravel
till the hail dents mark her soles.
Limp bouquets fly in the face
and drop around her
Blue satin drapes her shoulders,
gathers at her waist.
The hem a receding hairline.
Still, night after night,
she waits,
she watches,
a moon that never winks.
If you're looking for some comments here -- I want to say drop the "the" before illumination, and "to no avail" -- tightens it a bit, I think. I like it overall.
ReplyDeleteThanks for linking to my cafepress site. That's where I'm buying presents for everyone this year!
Yes... I agree. Very good suggestions. Thank you very much!
ReplyDeleteAnd, You are very welcome for the Cafe press link.