Poetry of Art - page 5

Today you are full and so very bright
Little sparkles reflected on the water
Washed onto the shore by current high tide
Just me there as its sole spotter

I can feel an air flow on my arms
A cold heavy shiver takes control
Its new to me but has its charms
Only warmth from some burning coal

Present high above this beach today
I am sitting here in the clammy sand
You once again decided to have it your way
Making this tiny pieces stick to my hand

Its dark everywhere so late at night
Small creatures finding their ways
Your magic always feels exactly right
Exactly described in numerous essays

Mystic light high up in the sky
You are there, over and over again
In the spotlight, that is why
When the time is right, that is when

You want me to focus, watch you, and only you
I am not alone here, its us that enjoys
We talk and laugh, that is what people do
Not able to break your spell with our noise

So far yet you are so close you are to me
As if I can pluck you right out of the sky
I like to, trust me I tried, didn’t you see
I feel attracted to your magic, that is why

Completely quiet, silence all evening long
Except for what is washed ashore
As if they know its here where they belong
They are everywhere but you want me to ignore

And then sometimes you try to hide
Not much to go for but some fluffy cloud
Those beams of light make the night exactly right
And I understand you, which makes me proud

We eat away the melted marshmallows
A bit burned by the wild moving flames
Dancing like the movement of sounding cellos
The adults around me making no claims

A dot moves along crossing you in its spaceflight
Traveling to its destined path in ideal alignment
High up in the sky like a running knight
Your face shines light, and shows some excitement

Smiling or sad, who knows how you feel
To me you are a magnificent sight
A drawing in the sky, it looks surreal
Only to vanish again at breaking daylight

But its good to have you near
I’d hope to see you again tomorrow
I’ll be waiting for you to appear
You turn darkness into an inspiring fresco

But I am only 8, and my holiday has come to an end
We will see each other again soon, my mystic friend

Monique Lucy Weberink

2011