Looking at the distant light,
The grumbling night,
The flashing skies;
I look at me once more.
Here again, aren't I?
Just when I think,
Yes enough, nothing to stop me anymore
The thunder falls again
Is it even the fault of the sky?
That she reminds you of the pirates,
The ones who stole your spirit and fire?
Perhaps not, but who am I to preach,
When something reminds one of the dark
Not once or twice,
Who does even have a choice?
No, I can't pretend an object
Not dull enough, can't suffice to remind death.
Neither can I try, knowing that the tint of black
Shall always remain
even when I repaint my memory pink.
So perhaps your gift, is one of goodbye
Unlike the one before, one of mistaken hope.
~~~
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Cottage Chronicles
PoetryLife's chronicles from love, sorrow, anger, guilt, shame, happiness buried in a poetic cipher. Would you like some words and wine, on wooden floorboards? ©️ Feronia Grey
