Coffee

Sasha K. Lotnikee

United States

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Night through a Window

May 4, 2014

He runs down the dark road desperately

Away from his house

After a while,

He trips.

Someone reaches out to help him.

There is a lady; with looks that are

Inconceivable,

But her figure is slender.

He gives his guide

A whisper of gratitude.

The village clock strikes three.

"Want to sit?"

She points at the wooden garden bench.

Her voice is wispy and light.

The world seems beautiful

From this different perspective

At night.

The many hued petals of the daisy

Glow in the light of the thin crescent,

Showering glints of rainbow hidden in the

Shadows.

Half-wilted daffodils sparkle past the garden gate

And the wind whips through the purple orchids.

Silence.

Even in the darkest night

The vibrant lilies bloom.

The other side of the world

Is here.

The village clock strikes four.

Sitting side by side,

She turns to him.

"Do you want to stay?"

He nods.

Chrysanthemums and sunflowers

Glitter like jewels under the twinkling stars.

Life is like a

Flower.

Always flourishing, until

Winter comes.

Alas, flowers die and become

Rotten and sour.

We droop away, marred by Tragedy,

Knowing something better is coming in our

Destiny.

Hope.

Waiting for Spring to arrive, when

Life commences.

The village clock strikes five.

It is a wonder how seedlings grow into

Stems.

Flowers, into

Fruit.

Glossy roses hang on the trellis;

Their soft petals infused with tones of fuchsia.

A floating tulip,

Painted delicately with nature's watercolours.

He has discovered the

Meaning of Life.

How flowers continue to grow, in times of

Trouble.

Hope is there.

The two stroll to the garden door.

Their silhouettes are revealed

Through the opening golden glimmers of the sun.

He turns to the lady.

"Who are you?"

Her hair is a fiery, flaming scarlet, tinged with

Orange.

Her dress is crimson; inter-weaved with turquoise and violet threads.

Her glistening aura glimmers in the sun.

"Dawn," She whispers.

Rising up in the air, leaving a trail of smoky grey, she joins the

Mountains.

In the telling the world that

Morning is here.

He runs and

Presses his skin on the window,

Smudging the glass.

Sun rays shine on his face,

Casting a shadow of pure light and

Hope.


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