Rain washed paradise
of its fiction;
the pink pigments in the sand,
the figments in the island’s
mirage-like glass walls
where dance the silhouettes
of movie stars
off a black-and-white picture,
melting away
with the sporadic heat
of the sun.
Where for but split seconds come
the spark of daylight,
dimmed away
each time the winds blow.
There it settled
above me
as truth did
in the warm afternoon glow;
a set of pearls
radiating
from the other side
of my window—
only my soul could reach.
For but one morning,
it was mine;
I owned paradise
before the squall poured
and night stole
daybreak.
When Night Stole Daybreak
October 12, 2021
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