Upon the brink of twilight’s grasp, a maiden fair does sit,
Edge of the mirror glass lake, in fading daylight’s glint.
Her visage mirrors on the surface, a duality lit,
She’s torn between the sun and moon, their hue in shadows hint.
Her eyes, two twilight galaxies, contemplate the fall,
Fingers tracing waters edge, where nature holds its breath.
The sun dips low, it’s parting kiss, sets fire to her pall,
A choice to make, the hour late, entwining life and death.
The world seems paused in reverence, the lake’s surface so still,
A canvas for her thoughts and fears, her courage and despair.
Her heart, a fluttering night bird, trapped within a cage of will,
Her life’s decision lingers, treads the edges of her hair.
Her whispers drown in silence, her thoughts begin to blend,
The sun dips lower, kisses the lake, paints her face in red.
To stay or leave, to fight or flee, on what path should she wend,
In the silence of the sunset, her destiny is read.
A dragonfly hovers near, a messenger of fate,
Whispering secrets of the dusk, and tales of dawn’s fresh slate.
Its iridescent wings beat, as time begins to prate,
The decision must be made, for the morrow will not wait.
She draws a breath, a final sigh, her choice takes its form,
In the waning light of day, and the approaching storm.
Strength like the mighty oak, she stands against the norm,
She’s ready for the dawn, she’s ready … Read the rest