Dawn and Dusk
Constructive critcism welcome, I want to submit poetry to a school literature magazine:
The sun crashes as an avalanche through the trees;
spears of light piercing a viridian canopy,
pooling like molten gold across the good earth.
A whisper of leaves and a glimpse of sable break my sleep
as delicate fingers dance across flesh and along a jawline
that leads to an expecting mouth's voice.
Milk and honey scents sink deeply into my clothing
and the sweet breath of forgetfulness escapes
like a shooting star caught and hung like a paper crane.
The sky flares up for a moment before slowly bruising,
ink spilling and seeping into its parchment indelibly,
until the dawn tears it asunder once more.
The sun crashes as an avalanche through the trees;
spears of light piercing a viridian canopy,
pooling like molten gold across the good earth.
A whisper of leaves and a glimpse of sable break my sleep
as delicate fingers dance across flesh and along a jawline
that leads to an expecting mouth's voice.
Milk and honey scents sink deeply into my clothing
and the sweet breath of forgetfulness escapes
like a shooting star caught and hung like a paper crane.
The sky flares up for a moment before slowly bruising,
ink spilling and seeping into its parchment indelibly,
until the dawn tears it asunder once more.