Orange was her color.
Darkest silky skies.
The sound of waves crashing.
Each a lullaby
to a wandering night.
Patient is the water
resisting twilight.
Something in the way she moves
makes me less lonely tonight

I could paint this skyline.
Take murky oil paints for the waves.
And orange, amber for each highlight
The sun plays keys with the clouds.
The waves sound fearless.

Why would they?
Its just them and me

Hands to hold, stones to skip
against the sundrunk
tide.

Soon it will be dusk,
then it will be dawn.
The birds will turn to bats.
A snow pile, eight miles high.

Against the orange tide
and the darkened silky skies.

 

Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His third book, Train of Thought 2: Almost Home is available now at the Oddball Book Store.