Hearing a Rockabye
I wonder how the luster of evening,
could hush despair amidst its glow, but,
its touch upon this skin escapes me
as the light reflects a child's face, gone:
Through nightfall's sail, eyes weep in private
while the rain flows intermittently,
it spills...like dying stars along the roadside
until this body is drenched in cold yearning.
Within gloss of dew, cotton candy days are recalled
enshrining laughter on Barnum Bailey fairs-
then, jelly-smudges circle her girlish mouth,
a wiggle on a red bike's new handle zigzagging away
where flavors of revelry linger, still...still.
And now, dusk creates another empty place
inside more holes in a pinpoint of ebon clouds,
that I am left alone
without a voice... choked by reality's pinch
when early dawn trickles in beats---
and singing myself to slumber
no one hears a Rockabye's wail, except...
Written 9/14/2018
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Shush, Did You Hear That:
Anthony Slausen's Contest
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