Beyond the cool glass doors the moon spills low
Soaking deserted palm trees to marrow specter.
Mere hours before, irate lovers stumbled below,
Sampling the bitter taste of poisoned nectar.
To rise or to fall, before them both laid a choice.
Yet when glare met gaze and mouth met curse,
All thoughts took cue from the night; rejoice,
Forget, and love on—today could have been worse.
Simmering in his eyes like the twinkling of a star,
Mimicking her curved mouth in the shadow of a grin,
Distant fantasies of a life so close but, oh, so far,
Looking to the future instead of where they’d been.
Hand in hand, holding the heart of tomorrow’s desire,
The ghosts of yesterday fading as the moon rose higher.
Author notes
This is a sonnet I did for one of my courses... I was surprised with the result.
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