i.
dusk grows downward
till it touches the trees, the grass,
the chairs they sit on.
she discovers his hand as a moon in hers,
wondering if he too sees
her palm as sky.
ii.
I could write a poem
by the twilight of your skin
she muses,
say my arm is a long green stalk,
and your hand, the white beginnings
of an arum,
or perhaps something more Neruda-like:
“I have no other star. You are
my replica of the multiplying universe.”
iii.
the sun is a star,
he murmurs,
I’ve searched your eyes
and I’ve found in them the colours
of all the fires,
and every desert
and summer you’ve ever seen:
the sun is here with me now
iv.
smiling, she lays the long red ray
of her finger against his lips,
softly asking:
did you know that warmth is a colour,
the only colour to never fade?
I’ve packed a suitcase
full of summer for you
v.
outside winter falls through the trees;
a few leaves trail a light
breeze
down the corridor the bedroom door
throws itself open
come, she whispers,
we have a suitcase to un-sun
Honorable mention
Gold trophy winner
Adding your comment:
"twilight of your skin" - wow - how do you do it, pretty woman? 
. Thank you for the comment - I don't mind the nitpicking at all 
seriously though, this should be published.
). It's very vivid and luminous... the whole poem is full of light and love. It sounds happy and I really like that. 
Each part of this piece is beautiful. 
