Each Day Has a Story
The street lamps cut through faded tones,
With moonglow blazing starlit gold,
And fluid my ink is interlaid
That even in the dark , I grasp blinks of light;
When nightfall drifts like a peaceful shroud
As my glass pane teeters in the breeze .
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,
While egrets scuffle homeward bound.
Mixed thoughts wander at this picture show ,
Receding off so gradually
Through the tip- tap drawl on cobblestones :
From my pane's sill, fingers reach for verses
Where every day is a page to write a new story...
A recital of life’s intervals with unending episodes.
Strand's Choice M
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2016
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