When nights cool

When nights cool

Dying day in grey light 
hued sky on bruised lips,
enlightened by a flicker-
finger traced around lines of laughter.

Pause, anticipation of steady breath,
in moment post-heat,
where words are void
but silence sings vividly  
sending shivers down supine spine.

Darkness undresses, gets into bed
warming buried bones,
languidly the lips brush, explore, 
rekindle a phoenix flame 
in these ashen nights, that grew so cold.

Shan Williams


Comments

  1. I love the last line... "these ashen nights" and "hued sky on bruised lips" really stand out for me. Enjoyed this poem. Thanks for sharing, Shan!

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