I waited near the hill 
for you to never come— 

watching raindrops, 
kindled by sunlight, 
become a collision
of stars on tarmac—

but it was cold, and 
my blood burned blue, 
not red, never red, 
not since you.

Amanda Gilmour 2020

Encounter with the Night

Poem: Encounter with the Night, written by The H Word by Hazel Urquhart.

The H Word by Hazel Urquhart

purple flowers in bloom Photo by Simon Matzinger on

Let me tell you my story
it’s up to you to believe
and should you think me a liar
it makes this tale no less real.

Early evening in April
following a glorious day
I took myself for a wander
before sleep came my way.

Sun was slinking down low
setting cloud and sky afire
causing daylight to blush
as the moon passed her by.

There was an air of possibility
hope still hanging around
honeysuckle seduced the senses
purple dusk seduced the mind.

There she stood by the oak tree
blending in yet, standing out
eyelids closed in meditation
or conversation, hard to tell.

I knew to watch was intrusive
but was unable to look away
she was wondrous as the sunset
enigmatic as the earth.

Just as darkness threw his blanket
over everything in sight
I felt movement, like a whisper

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