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Twelve
And when the darkness suffocates 
A weight that takes your breath away
You scratch and claw to move it 
But the light is dim, 
Growing ever dimmer

The stars are tiny pinpricks of hope 
That cause the night to bleed
Hopefulness
From hopelessness 
Towards a new day 
Which they never find

Eleven hours of darkness 
In which she sat alone
Looking for a near light 
Which she could call her own
She hides her face 
From the wounded night
Afraid it will avenge itself 
And devour her hidden smile

To the east the black is tinted 
In a haze of sapphire blue
Yet brighter than the vacuum 
That was taking her life away
As indigo fades to purple 
And clearly time moves on
In the waking hours of a new day 
She crawls where once she lay
To find the hope 
To find a seed 
The sky is set on fire 
Eleven roses reach out their hands
And circle in the morning calm

"If only there were twelve, not less
I know my true love speaks to me
In ways that words cannot express
I see the sunrise, where is he?
Upon me night was pressing down
To satisfy his evil needs
If but my true love hold me bound 
I would not lie among these weeds" 

A voice said, “Why do you dismay?
When I bequeath eleven true
The honeybee toils night and day
His honey, not as sweet as you"
"The sun would shine in all its power
And merely stand a smoldering ember
My sun arose a different hour
When you arrived, one bright September"

"But would, “she said, “The perfect love
Not love me to the fullest measure?
And all my life lift me above 
Is not my love most precious treasure?"
Why then, do I, eleven see
Not twelve to show your love is true?"
And in a bouquet blossomed she 
"My flower, “he said, “the twelfth is you"

December 19, 9:45 pm, Copyright ©1999 Michael Paul