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Dusk

A poem

Photo by Kristijan Arsov on Unsplash

Dusk at another airport
One can see the heat hanging
A yellow orb is low in the sky

Slowly turning to egg yolk
And then mango

Sinking slowly as a goodbye
Turning the color of oranges
Finally some red markings
As that sun drops away
Minutes pass, the clouds celebrate
With pink, pale red, apricot, and aqua

Published in The Lark

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by madswirl.com and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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