Golden Hour

It’s called the golden hour

By artists and by princes

Dusk or dawn

When the light is right

And…

A view, a glimpse

An oblique look

Of heartbreaking beauty

And ephemeral bliss

Hits your soul

With a shock that resonates

Transitory intenseness

Radiant as a kiss

But just because

Grace fades away

And disappears from sight

Doesn’t make it less wonderful

Or precious

Natural transcendence

Doesn’t need a bargain, doesn’t need a deal

Beauty stands without compare

And Beauty stands without a care

Never ask a sunset for commitment

You’ll end up blocking the sunrise

And all those fellow travelers

Faded

Drifted off

Hankering for a cost

But losing it

And losing you just chokes me

‘Cuz here I stand

No expectations

No demands

An arm outstretched

An open hand

An open heart

No expectations

No demands

David Trudel © 2012

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s