the last of it

I linger in the midnight blue. Taste the last of sunshine before the cool. My revelations are pastels, soft and smudged in the early eve.

Too many hard corners have bruised my thighs. From this small summit the landscape undulates, mimics my oscillations, my sensual exhalations. My backyard reveals hidden treasures; broken sculptures and small childrens toys.

I am panning for gold. Through the dirt rises glimmers. I can't make out the weight but I know there are treasures for the taking. Time will tell if I am a fool or if the dull glow confirms the true value of that which I desire.