The Jagged Edges

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.