bajanblueOPSpeightstown, Saint Peter Barbados3,724 posts
Standing on the edge of the world looking out to sea at sunset I can feel you all as stars just waiting to be seen as darkness tiptoes in on the horizon, pushing back the lavender , the pink, making way for darker glamour to erupt onto the stage prepared by twilight. The night is sudden here, from light to deepest black mere moments and a heartbeat ring the changes as the stars all jump to life, a hectic sparkle on the backdrop of the sky. Earth smells of evening dew a damp rich scent that issues invitation to the fliers and the bats who come to feed in looping sweeps of shadow, as the whistling frogs all swell their tuneful throats, adding music to the jump and jitter of the stars, the bats, the night that pulses with the secret lives of creatures who avoid the day. Standing on the edge of my world, looking into theirs, I breathe the scent of night time, vetiver, the jasmine taste of lady of the night, a heavy fragrance overcoming air, a cloying cling that fills the senses drowning them in beauty the smell of cemetery wreathes to mark the passing of the day, the little death that nibbles at the moments of my life.
Report threads that break rules, are offensive, or contain fighting. Staff may not be aware of the forum abuse, and cannot do anything about it unless you tell us about it. click to report forum abuse »
If one of the comments is offensive, please report the comment instead (there is a link in each comment to report it).
looking out to sea at sunset
I can feel you all as stars
just waiting to be seen
as darkness tiptoes in
on the horizon, pushing back
the lavender , the pink,
making way for darker glamour
to erupt onto the stage
prepared by twilight.
The night is sudden here,
from light to deepest black
mere moments and a heartbeat
ring the changes as the stars
all jump to life, a hectic sparkle
on the backdrop of the sky.
Earth smells of evening dew
a damp rich scent that issues
invitation to the fliers and the bats
who come to feed in looping sweeps
of shadow, as the whistling frogs
all swell their tuneful throats,
adding music to the jump and jitter
of the stars, the bats, the night
that pulses with the secret lives
of creatures who avoid the day.
Standing on the edge of my world,
looking into theirs, I breathe the scent
of night time, vetiver, the jasmine
taste of lady of the night, a heavy
fragrance overcoming air,
a cloying cling that fills the senses
drowning them in beauty
the smell of cemetery wreathes
to mark the passing of the day,
the little death that nibbles at
the moments of my life.