The purple sky
Turns velvet, kissed with stars,
Sliver of moon, a breath away from dark,
The whole world tiptoe quiet.
Under the trees, she sleeps,
Dreams of the time, a life ago,
She searched for fire in his kiss
And found there only music.
Notes: The prompt was to write a nocturne. The last line was a found line – the first words of five successive lines in the novel I’m reading – and the poem grew from there.