Periwinkle...

...was precisely the most fitting tone
of dawn before the tint of all things
illuminated themselves outward

humming their hues
in synchronic earth tones,

in the distance,
there were glimmerings,
starlight still hanging
on, winking it self away
until the last wishes
were taken in
pastel.

Painting by Thomas Wilmer Dewing (1851-1938), 'Untitled', in Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons. 

She's so shy

(Come) Back, back, back
             She beckons-
softly at first,
             Something is missing-
volume.

(With) A tint of  spilt light,
           with a whisper of consonance
striking a surface-
She has moved out
                                      from behind
the clouded periwinkle glass.

A lady is demure,
all chiffon and lace,
privacy knits her crochet brow
                               in her taciturn phase,
observing us too late and long...

(Where) She moved windows-
(knowing we would never peek there)
              She'd had enough-
                              leaving us
in the dark
(Again) To feel our way
Back, back, back
               where night shadows lie
(cheating the sun,
and stealing the superfluous
beams and streams in arrays).

She will give it all back-
Remember (when)
She's had her way
(With) keeping you
in midnight wake.




Painting By Helen Allingham (1848 - 1926) (The Bridgeman Art Library, Object 283763) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.