A strange, spur-of-the moment poem, but I think it's okay (or better, I hope).
I know you never wished as I did,
On the night’s first star.
Or beneath a harvest moon
You never saw anything but the ebony
The dark velvet to which the diamonds were stitched,
But not the jewels themselves
There was once when I tried
To make you look up
To make you see the pinpoints of light.
You laughed.
You said “I like the dark.”
I called you my dark angel.
Do you remember?
You’re not an angel,
You’re the night itself.
Inescapable, uncontainable,
And so fragile.
There was once when I caught you
Standing under the crooked tree
With its crippled limbs and misshapen leaves,
And there were tears on your face.
You almost didn’t let me see.
You said you’d had enough,
Of everything.
And I asked you if you’d had enough of me
A smile came.
And you put your hand in mine, and for a time we walked in the moonlight,
Until the sun burned away the magic.
And you said,
“Tomorrow.”
A promise instead of a goodbye.
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I don't know how I missed this before! I thought this was brilliant.
So far, so good! However, I'm not sure about 'fragile'. The night isn't really fragile. It gives way to the sun, yes, but then the day gives way to night. It has more of a temporary idea about it, which might work as regards this person. They might disappear, but then there's the promise that they'll return ('tomorrow') at the end.
I think this is where you veer off course slightly. The tree isn't particularly significant, so its description seems unwarranted.
I've mostly changed punctuation points and made a few suggestions regarding word choice. Apart from those, I loved your idea, the imagery, and the first and last stanzas in particular.
You get a gold star!
Thanks! I'll work on the revisions.
You've got some really good material here, Ms. Lynn - it's just a little rambly. You say it's spur of the moment, so that's to be expected. Your images are your strong point; simple but evocative, common enough to be familiar but not common enough to have become a meaningless cliche. Work with those, tighten up your lines, and take another look at your enjambment. Some of the lines, especially in the second to last stanza, don't flow quite right.
I like it! You've got some great imagery here, like
"Standing under the crooked tree
With its crippled limbs and misshapen leaves,"
my favorite is the first stanza:
"I know you never wished as I did,
On the night’s first star.
Or beneath a harvest moon
You never saw anything but the ebony
The dark velvet to which the diamonds were stitched,
But not the jewels themselves"
There are some punctuation things I'd want to change, though. Even though this is a poem, the sentences should still be separated by periods in the right places. That's just me, though. If that's how it's supposed to be, then ignore me. Otherwise:
"you said, 'I like the dark.'"
"You said you’d had enough, (comma's not really needed here. the new line works just fine for the pause.)
Of everything."
Oh, and make sure you don't capitalize the beginning of each line if it's in the middle of a sentence. Unless, of course, you meant it to be that way.
There are a few more I didn't catch, I know. I gotta get going though. This piece has some beautiful insights. You did a great job! Well done!
--Anna