Mist Partially Rising

He battled, pure, alone, and free, with hair the colour of gold she had striven so hard to find
but failed to ever see.
While love’s spider’s-webs floated still through the dewy air
as brittle gossamer ladders up which the little light remaining ascended, pink,
into the quieting evening sky.

N’Djameena, Tchad 2004

Submit a Comment