Horizons

There is something unquestionably strange
about the horizon,
always changing colors,
shifting it’s edges.
Someone is always
On the other side
Pulling it away.

If I am lucky the lily pads will
Welcome my soft steps,
The waters will yield to my weight,
The flowers will float aside
And I will grab your fingers
Before you vanish into the onward
Bending of night.

I wonder of a ball of fire…
An orb so great
No darkness could consume it,
Yet your belly swallows it whole every eve.

I am told I am a sun sign.
Would you welcome me as well?

~Christina Ward

2009