Prism

Mary Naylor  confirmed
Night

Is black,

But evening

Is violet.

Night is a hunter,

Evening is a soft kiss.

Night stalks and waits and pounces,

Evening is a blue, velvet mist.

Night's muscles ripple, ready to strike,

Evening is the air's stained window of light.

Published by Mary Naylor confirmed

I was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1933. I grew up in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, a wild and beautiful state, rich in literature and lore. I loved the stories of Paul Bunyon and his ox, Babe. The hoax of t...   View profile

1 Comments

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  • agent 7/28/2010

    your poems are just brilliant you know i want to become one of the poetries keep it up i like it.

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