Evening Poem by elysabeth faslund
Evening
In a draped parlor,
The soft Lady
Waits on her brocade
Chair.
Delicate, tiny,
Slippered feet, soundless
As she rises,
Greets
Her guest. Always
Arriving on
Time. Never hurried,
Calm.
She turns over the
Keys to her mansion.
Opens the drapes
Wide.
Never sunlight.
Always complete
Darkness takes her chair.
Night
Odd. Thought-provoking. Paints a scene using very few colors. -chuck
Sad and melancholy but somehow there's a complete story in those poetic lines. Not overdone, simply and discreet. Very nice indeed. Love and hugs Ernestine XXX
A pure pleasure to read. I love the delicate images of day passing to night and the elegant pause at the end of each stanza.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 3:11:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
the panorama that flows with wonderful imagery, superb write, i do admire, .10/10, thanks for sharing