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Wintersun
entered the upstairs library,

In shifts,
heads bowed.

The flickers of remembrance
softly stroked her hair,

Until the dousing of
the final candle

Summoned nightfall
to dance at her funeral party.
I know they look like sunrises and sunsets, but I was painting you.
When I painted all the rivers that lead to the oceans, and the glorious starry nights, and the flowers; the sublime orchids and the tender roses.
In the end
and from the beginning,
I was painting you.
only her body
was small

everything else
impacted the

planet

compassion
is the best

type of
passion

I think her
voice is

an echo

living in
many

generations
she will pass

through time
and be felt

just short
of forever
 Sep 2020 South City Lady
jordan
the ninth shade
embraces mountain peaks
in the pure clarity of morning

frost clings to sagebrush
in the ascending sunlight
of the third-quarter moon

and as life pauses
to apprehend the spectacle
of a wintry summer morning

my bones feel
the transition of season
as autumn draws near
Written for the crisp morning sky of September 9 2020.  May you live forever in my memory.
I watch,
the ocean of emotion
welling up
through limpid eyes
in fearful, tearful panic
clutching at the straws
that are granddad
that true constant
love
unspoken.
BLT's word of the day challenge  "limpid"  =  transparency, clear, simple.
Within the sparkle of the sun the music of your eyes
and on your scented pillow a sudden flash of truth    
"we can reach the other side"
Silken kisses that slide inside my heart
full of memory ray  
Whispered secrets that make no sense
innocence of one lovely afternoon
what better way to spend our three o'clock
then wrapped inside each other's gauze, ;
emotionally in love like the first day we met
we sparkle like the sun, matching each others smile  
More brilliant then a thousand watts
More jubilant then seventh heaven
More blessed then angels at the archery of God
we are, ... thank you  !
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