Azure Waning

Azure and emerald 

flares of question 

trip the light fantastic 

from beyond the silhouettes 

of this industrial ghost town. 

It is not in our dance 

to restrain our intentions 

and manipulate our actions 

in haste to bend the night. 

Spin, spin, spin, 

the lovers move, 

and stalk each other ardently; 

desperate for the falling rose pedals 

of tampered reciprocation. 

Ours is a separate peace, 

of stained glass ambiance

 and curls of clove smoke, 

in a favorable circumstance 

of uncertainty.