(c) Jeanice Deering 2013
Our star was setting in the western sky
and the mist was rising from the fields.
All the clouds were billowing up, like a sacred
room was around us, and the air
had a peachy-pink tint,
and perfume from somewhere, soft
and sweet as a summer breeze.
Our companion star was rising, the way
that it does when time seems to
briefly freeze.
I remember your eyes, the purple
of Canterbury bells, warm
as a welcome, long desired.
What did I see in those purple eyes?
It's been a while, making it hard to recall,
though I am haunted by amethyst skies.
Our star was setting in the western sky
and the mist was rising from the fields.
All the clouds were billowing up, like a sacred
room was around us, and the air
had a peachy-pink tint,
and perfume from somewhere, soft
and sweet as a summer breeze.
Our companion star was rising, the way
that it does when time seems to
briefly freeze.
I remember your eyes, the purple
of Canterbury bells, warm
as a welcome, long desired.
What did I see in those purple eyes?
It's been a while, making it hard to recall,
though I am haunted by amethyst skies.