Velvet trimmed night, laced up tighter than a vintage corset on a plump woman, that’s how the night fell. Demanding and beautiful.
Slate coloured, cold water down parched throat
A messenger, sweet cries of a birth
A canopy, firm grasp of a hand
An invisible rain, a shower of lights
Expectant, a sea swell’s freeze
A storm, brewing in a teacup
A prayer, darkened by age
A charge, forever waiting, never acting
A tension, blooming and blossoming.
A world, that is
On one side is morality
On the other sanity