she slithers down the mountain
spreading her mouth wide inhaling
the glistening dew of shadows exhaling
a breath of pink warming to molten red
I dress to meet her
this lady that never waits
but my right, left and U-turns
slow my way out the door
there is no meaning to this greeting
but I’m late today
she has already struck the match
and burned to ash
the closed book of night
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