Softly rose the moon that night,
softly, so softly,
pooling cold vellum waves along the skirting board
the time of magic approaching
all the hustle gone from the world
in the soft hush of an exhale
in the dewdrop scent of the evening
in the heavy taste of jasmine flowers on the windowsill
in the feather-light touch of a goodnight kiss
in the innocent face of a sleeping child
seen only as moonlight can see
captured in one illuminated moment
precious as the sunrise still in the distance.
Author notes
softly, vellum, chipped, skirting board, hustle
-word bank
A contest entry
- prompts for you; poems for me. by epitome.
350 points, ended November 27, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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