Revised Version
THE WAITING GAME
Evening shadows crept into the courtyard.
Lit by the silvery glow of moonbeams, Cerulean blue, jade green and gold colours like a stained glass window gleamed from her peacock feather fan.
She waited patiently – there was no rush.
Wind chimes broken reeds tinkled in the evening breeze as calmly, she daintily drank jasmine tea from a delicate porcelain cup.
She heard his footsteps on the terrazzo.
The moons silver fingers caressed the moon gate, hovered over the fallen arch and rested lingeringly on her lover's face. Ancient walls silently watched and waited as did she.
Maureen Clifford © the Scribbly Bark Poet.
THE WAITING GAME
Evening shadows crept silently into the courtyard.
Lit by the silvery glow of moonbeams, her elegant fan of peacock feathers gleamed like a stained glass window. Cerulean blue, jade green and gold.
She waited patiently – there was no rush.
The broken reeds of the wind chimes tinkled in the evening breeze. Calmly she daintily drank jasmine tea from a delicate porcelain cup.
She heard his footsteps on the terrazzo.
Shadows cast by the moonlight drifted over the fallen arch of the moon gate and her lover's face.
The ancient walls were used to waiting, and so was she.
Maureen Clifford ©
·······  ·······
|