BY CAROLE NICHOLS
That tiny light distant shines,
Fickering as a candle exposed,
A pulsing beat to call me forth;
Yet speaks not of what it holds.
A curious thing, growing nearer not,
Sends a finger of warmth to tease;
Perhaps some tired soul seeking a haven,
A place of safety in the stormy night;
Needing solace in morphia's arms,
A bower to bide from force of the gale.
Shall I venture forth for which to see
Does it to me silenty hail?
Perhaps it's one who holds my dreams,
Delivering now, with me to share.
Perhaps I'm the dream he sees from afar,
Struggling e'er to draw near,
That tiny light brightly flicks,
Dare I step into the cold and chance,
Perhaps to find naught but what once was,
A lying taste of lost romance?
And the light a dying ember;
The sound of the wind, a broken song,
As it sits in the distance, flickering;
Can I reach it before it is gone?
This was so pretty to read.
ReplyDeleteLike eating sweets, or chocolate or something creamy and delicious...or
For a man, maybe a piece of meat, cooked medium-well done...unless
They never learned the difference, in what keeps it tender and juicy...
LMAO...do I know you?
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