Painter of the Sky
Painter of the Sky sunset stories
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zjw
zjw Poetry is the language of the stars
Autoplay OFF   •   7 months ago
A poem reflecting on a beautiful sunset.

Painter of the Sky

To my left,

To my left, a relaxed violet.

To my left, a relaxed violet. She's cool, like a winter's wind,

To my left, a relaxed violet. She's cool, like a winter's wind, yet soft as the coo of a dove.

To my right,

To my right, an effervescent orange.

To my right, an effervescent orange. He's sharp as the blade of a knife,

To my right, an effervescent orange. He's sharp as the blade of a knife, and warm, like a contagious smile.

The moon hangs low,

The moon hangs low, dangling her toes off the edge

The moon hangs low, dangling her toes off the edge of the universe,

The moon hangs low, dangling her toes off the edge of the universe, and staring into the void.

The painter of the sky

The painter of the sky makes his exit,

The painter of the sky makes his exit, as grandiose as the finished canvas.

He brings his light with him,

He brings his light with him, leaving only

He brings his light with him, leaving only the darkness

and the stars

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