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Memories III: Tapestries II of III

A strike of a match would briefly carve His weatherworn features From the darkness full of his words Echoes from history of an exorbitant life A face full of history and mystery That still lingers In my minds eye I remember the darkest richest of nights As the crimson end of that cigarette with its Glowing tip dances orange bright Tracing images in to my imagination Like a lantern illuminating The darkest of mysteries he weaved a tapestry Of light bleeding into obscurity of his history Lived out fast like the flare Of that amber fire match Its spark curving sharp shadows on hands worn & rugged Moving in a steady flow & flutter Punctuating the highlights The exaggerations and ebbs of rhythm that illustrated his story A little spark of orange light illuminated each important event Etching his life lived in my memory Now fading imagery I remember tracing firelight arcs Trails like scarlet comets & the perfect dark glowing brighter as he inhaled his aromatic smoke. The little orange sun carving dark shadows On that weatherworn face still

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Date: 1/18/2022 7:51:00 PM
This one of three, please read all as this is one part of a larger poem. Thanks!
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