Rainy Day Renderings

Emberglow

Outside it is dusk,

Street lamps are lit to an emberglow,

The scent of a dew covered forest wafts through my window.

My peach tea, sweetened with honey,

And the floral taste of my pear,

Blend to convey notes of an early autumn harvest.

The scent of dusted parchment floats around me,

As I settle into a Fleur-de-lis patterned wingback chair,

Wrapped in a wool blanket scarf,

to read these old renaissance texts.

Written by a sculptor from Italy,

I will meet him through these sketches and stories,

And when I finish,

he will be sitting across from me.

I'll offer a cup,

Of this steaming peach tea,

And a slice of my pear,

While we talk about marble.

He'll sculpt me a miniature of Calliope and Clio,

Before he thanks me for returning him to life,

Even if just for a moment.

He'll smile,

Fade with the coming of dawn,

And when I awake,

My tea will be cold,

But I'll remember,

What transpired beneath the emberglow.