into golden brilliance

Up temple steps,
one Alistair goes reluctantly
with arms full of books
and his left shoe untied
and a mind back in the stacks
searching for the one last
reference which (he pretends)
would complete
his research and, so,
him.

A girl, Lysette, sits
on one polished bench inside
and with an unmoving gaze
watches the moving fresco
of the sky. Her young
mind sees the blue reimagined,
clouds spun in gold.
Her books are outside the gate.

Temple emerges from navy
midnight to pure rose
, into golden brilliance.
Sinks into purple
dusk again. A temple
in time.