Dusk unlaces.

Undoing me  with the clock's hands.

Undressing and unwinding.

All paced to the fading light.

Letting loose on the canvas of spiral bind and blue lines.

Questions begin to catch in a familiar form.

But the dead moon bring with it dread.

The dread of telling and the welling excitement.

Enthusiasm swelling to new heights.

Thoughts of war paint, dance and daring.

All resulting in abandoned command.


~unknown