Golden Hour

It’s called the golden hour

By artists and by princes

Dusk or dawn

When the light is right


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


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

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