Indigo

She had wanted to wear red
but chose, indigo instead.
The day so hideously hot
summer disassembling into dust
earth cracking, like
broken eggs shells under foot.
Parched garden patches
wilting about her fragile frame.
Craving white vacant spaces
her back, rubbing against the cool
clear lines of emptiness.

She slept
pleading for the breaking storm.
Failed to hear the rush of quickened feet –
irritation racing on ahead, tempers flared
from bodies heatwave sore.

At  last  the sun retreats, night
inhales the now near silence –
allowing the calm
to swim the margins
on this once blistering day.

Yes, she had wanted to wear red
but so very glad, she had chosen
indigo instead...