A Gnat
There was something about this place--
so terribly unknown,
and though I fancied its mystery
I felt so alone,
an old abandoned dock, a shady-- house on a hill--
the same wardrobe of twill, in this city of stone.
All the years, misplaced and dreary--
I notice the gnat,
fluttering neath the window pane;
it's wings timid and flat,
how lucky that creature would-- someday be--
so determined and free, a silencing splat.
Lovely, I thought, this quiet scene--
my flattened friend,
two legs still manoeuvring aimlessly,
the others embrace the end--
how simple and fragile--a finespun dust--
yet you I trust, but will not defend.
Four glass panels, light passing through--
a heavenly invite,
your ticket stamped for an eternity,
why continue on to fight?
why attempt to scramble--around and about--
for a God without, not an angel in sight.
I am your vigil, your watching eye--
I will, stand here and watch you die,
I count the minutes--till sweet release--
the sign from whom shall grant you peace,
yet no soul beckons, or heeds the call--
no one my friend, no one at all.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment