Writer in San Francisco, CA
Holding, grasping, pleading
sun shine licks the back
of my neck and rises earlier
to warm the soft ground
holding onto every last
moment, as it is shortened
by seconds, minutes and
hours.
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-Alina
Holding crisply and
clinging to limbs waiting
for a shake, waiting for the cold
to seep in. Birds murmur the change
in coming, ruffling feathers and looking
pleased.
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-Alina
The nights twist and turn
under the heartless moon
crisp and the color of cream,
a soul reimagining the world
under the cover of the night sky.
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-Alina
Moving away into the golden light of the gods,
the sun shatters into a million pieces
empty of deities and into darkness I fall
Shifting into a landscape, a millennium that is cold
and godless and new.
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-Alina
Holding down the sinking sun,
clouds clean and clump the
crimson reds together pressing
them against the dark blue sea.