So far from heaven are we

and yet…

the last of the sun caresses sleepy violet hills

this windless place shifts and sighs

in perfumed ethereal mists

worn-down dunes soaked and dripping

the falling night awash in the white of moonlight

a cracked and crumbling path

adorned with the last flaming leaves of autumn

amber stars now drifting in dark rivers

sweet blossoms reach to test the air

there is the fragrance of jasmine

and an earthy dampness from the evening dew

graceful shadows dance in the hush of twilight

cradled in the arms of evening

and his eyes

his eyes

they mirror the deepest ocean

So far from heaven are we

And yet….

© Ann Bagnall

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