The Jagged Edges
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Constance La France's J With Four Options Contest...5 Aug 25...' The heart of a poet always feels the bliss and terror of a pen grinding...' ~ by poet
The skyline cuts through faded tones,
With moonglow blazing gilded bronze
And fluid my ink is interlaid
As nightfall drifts like a peace shroud
The glass pane teeters in the breeze
With my pen zigzagging on damp papyrus
I hear an old couple laugh on the alley
Their banter rolling , perhaps, of younger times--
Across them, a lone man trots, forlorn
His bent spine enduring road's travail,
Leading his wobbly feet to tangles of blooms
While egrets scuffle homeward bound.
My mixed thoughts wander at this picture show
...Receding off so gradually
From the tip- tap screech of cobblestones
To my pane's sill, fingers reach for verses
Where each day is a page to write new stories
About jagged yet sleek edges of time's folly
My hands sinking into tattered phrases, kneading
Recitals of life with unknown episodes.
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2025
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