Moods
Dawn's blue shawl has undertones
Sublimated vermiliion shades.
The woman impure who creeps back home to her twilight glade.
Dawn's wearing tattered blue today
And white cotton threads are showing
The aged crone cries alone
This morn of dead reckonings.
Dawn's draped in dreamy blue velour
Windy ripples in satiny folds.
This pretty maid has sprung from magic glade
And her days in gold foretold
Dawn creeps out of night's deathly shade
And grins a ghastly frackish white
This old hag is no more.
Dead before first light
(c) Amrita Valan 2017
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