Magic At Dusk

• Brooke Little, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2013

Listen to the voice of the glowing sky,
As the moon says hello and the sun whispers good-bye,
I can feel the warm breeze blowing from a cluster of far off stars,
Giving me faith from beyond the cage of unbreakable iron bars,
Magic coats the horizon like a flowing lake of sunny orange and bittersweet pink,
The heavens above darkens to a empty hue of onyx as the sphere of light we call Luna twinkles and winks,
The fragrance of cinnamon and lilac overrides my senses and burns my taste buds causing my mind to render useless as a broken heart,
The beautiful sun is no longer seen causing the once radiating warmth and comfort to depart,
My eyes flutter shut already wishing for the evanescent warmth and safety that I once felt only moments ago,
The light of the moon shining down towards me causing my skin to glitter eerily white like snow,
All I can see is a ghostly silhouette of the shining sliver lady beaming down on me,
The dazzling stars looking like glistening golden tears of despair crying
out to be free,
I can feel the sliver queen’s sadness slowly becoming a crescendo of sorrow,
As I lay under the darkened sky already seeing another tomorrow.