Afterglow

In the distant ache of a honey skyline,

amber drips from rose-colored branches.

It is honest, it is silent, it is impossibly so. 

Petals drift and collapse

From dirt drenched stems, 

Clouding the grass;

A swirling ache of something too soft to remember. 

The sun is not a staple but an echo 

Her paint pours over an entire town 

A soft glow illuminates the air

Flowing throughout faces and lungs.

A lilac bush sways to an invisible timeline of music,

she grasps the space around her,

demanding an audience of 

empty rock and bramble. 

Candlelit luminescence blooms from each surface, 

golden rays of absolute artwork 

bending and shifting to share quiet magic 

A garden of thoughts mulling over an unquestionable demand for peace. 

The sky has taken a final bow, 

The ground is hushing any noise; 

The sun steals her cue, 

Melting into a desolate remembrance. 

The dream of daylight pours over my outstretched hands,

The sky has diminished with apologies and good graces. 

We lay over soft fields, 

Watching gold drip off all of the branches 

the radiant glow retreating behind color-soaked trees. 

We lay in awe,

Even as the ground grows frozen beneath our bodies 

And frost fuels over the leaves and blossoms;

This world is a painting we live in 

We remain astonished in fragments

The brilliance of a sunset 

strong enough to stem unity, 

Strong enough to remind you 

To rise; 

the next morning 

Alongside her.