The color of silence,
The color of shadow,
The color of dusk.
It whispers its secrets to those to can hear,
A soft silken voice, a breath in your ear.
Sweet scarlet bells that twinkle and chime
Dancing in starlight and skimming a rhyme.
Daylight’s end and night’s beginning,
When flowers fade and fires bloom,
Indigo springs on her lithe step,
A bright shattered light through night’s great gloom.
A stolen word though fiercely spoken,
Indigo slinks like a cat in tree oaken.
The canopy of leaves painted in sunlight
Suspended over a gown of pure white.
That is what she wishes to be
Indigo
Flying fast and free.
Instead she wanders through misty voids
Pacing
Watching
Seeking
Racing
Stopping only to watch the destroyed.
Velvet pears on stark moonlight
Sense her temper and her might
And flee to find what cover they can,
Casting imprints in the sand.
But Indigo merely glides past in frost
As haunting as a butterfly lost.

(c)