Glass Fingers
Glass fingers swaying in the night,
ice glistens
upon barren branches,
to the backdrop
of a single streetlight.
Caught in the winter wind,
they seem to wave at me,
and I feel a strange kinship
of loneliness and sorrow.
They’ll be gone tomorrow,
an exodus of diamond droplets,
melting away,
saying “We’re done”,
dripping and dropping and dying,
in the morning sun.
and I will sleep and dream and wait
and once again they’ll come,
when the next night’s winter
has begun.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
