I swear I saw her cheeks blush
in the light of the fluorescent
that made the sunrise behind her
seem insignificant.
Her smile was bright and blinding
and when she said, “Hi! Good morning!”
everyone stopped and couldn’t help but smile back.
Her lips were that lush red
that belies roses held up in a bouquet
and overshadowed the sun now setting behind her.
Her eyes shone bright in the moonlight
even as clouds crowd the moon.
Time loses meaning, east turns to west,
as I stare at the night sky in her eyes.
Day Twelve Prompt: to write a poem that plays with the idea of a “tall tale.”
I wanted to write about the idea of a dream girl and how descriptions of her tend to be exaggerated outlandish metaphors. But then I noticed that how I wrote the descriptions seemed odd and just went with it. So I ended up writing a cryptid of a woman. It’s hilarious to me, and just as terrifying.
Flipped Serendipity 