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Colors of Evening

We trace the pink sunset
with hands
touching
as lightly as the tickle
of a moth’s wings on your nose

the moth
so attracted to the golden light in our eyes
like lightning bugs chasing
a bright and electric connection
for each other

here in hereness of night
not yet lighted by the moon
we linger in the remaining glow
to wait and wait
just to see the glorious constellations

a spider’s invisible thread
of sparkling silk
stitches us together
serene

we hold no fear of being
isolated islands
floating in indigo waters
left to watch pink sunsets

on our own



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