By Annalie Buscarino.
Twilight kisses the lake,
her gentle lips smooth with honey.
She caresses the water
with a soulmate’s touch.
Ripples nuzzle the shore,
like lines of lace folding into themselves.
Frondescence trail whispers behind as
they wander along the surface.
Time is a grandmother here,
weakly insisting there was glory once.
She sighs a lullaby
to her kin.
There are seldom visitors
to sparkle the lover with coin,
but treasure is valueless
when a queen swathes you.
Twilight smiles with tired face
and climbs back into the sky.
Then puckers the lustful lips of darkness
to silence the light.
ANNALIE BUSCARINO is a 16 year old writer from Long Island, New York. She expands her youth in many different directions, from a pageant finalist to a varsity soccer goalkeeper, a social butterfly to rank one in her class. Her interests include English and the FBI.