Wednesday 20 April 2016

1 Poem by Linda Woolven


When the sky turns slate, 
and grows still and silent, 
and twilight touches with 
its smudge of suggestions. 

And all tones become hints of grey, 
a comfort, 
I am held in the embrace 
of coming night. 

I know the day is done, 
and I am in soft shades and edges. 

A safe womblike place 
as the night approaches 
with its darker intentions. 


Linda Woolven has published over 100 poems, including two chapbooks, in numerous journals. She won an award for one of her poems. 

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