Prompt 8 = Image

 

The African Sky

 

Lying flat on our backs under the Milky Way

Half asleep, I hear you say,

‘Can anything be vaster than this sky?’

We looked up together, hands clasped tight.

At the open, silken, endless, night

Where diamonds fly to after they die.

 

Our campfire crackles and casts a glow

on eager faces, sleepy a while ago

Its light vying with the brightness above.

‘It’s our very own canopy,’ I said

As I nestled back against his head

And the African Sky blessed our love.