Veranda : © g.s.koch
the lamp post
would burst its faces
this night, when
I’d wake up
from my sleep of haunted lights,
breaking this mirror
.
of night lights,
to be the gleam of
the mad moon,
the rife ruins,
of the past breathing in me
and sighing bright lights,
.
smoldering
this night into flames
of a fuel,
of an ache,
that which burns it all with me
into lights of night,
.
nothing left
but the acrid smell
of sly smoke,
of dying blocks,
spewing fumes of burned up night,
black with the lamp lights
.
For Bastet’s Shadorma Photo Prompt. And yes, I traveled the road of rhymes… I am a rule breaker. 😉 Hope that is alright.
