07-21-2024, 05:21 AM
So it has been pretty quiet lately so I thought I would put this one up to give everyone something to do for five minutes or so. I wrote it awhile ago and kind of forgot about it. It has gone through a few formats and this is the one I like the most, believe it or not. I put it in basic cause I don't want anyone thinking too hard about it, unless compelled, then hack away. Almost forgot the rule of putting the title in the post!
Lost
Always
the broad light pushing
apart our
shining dome of sky, ringing
vertigo of curving
horizon; suffered my eyes
in its din of bright.
Dim of dusk
is where I find you
at the end, what
is there but night
its promise
holding close, hands
cupped round
not to smother
but to banish those
hobgoblins of day
beyond a campfire’s ring.
Let the thick dark fall,
earthen and wet
to blanket us in
a simple child’s fort
lit, now within
my sky the blurred blue
of your eyes, my horizon
the curve of your smile
everything now
as close as a kiss.
How we laugh
at the parallax,
the shifting perspective
between
camera one and camera two;
Time fumbling
about having lost our knowing
hands still finding
their own way.
Scant the warning; that tingle
on the nape
of the horizon. Dawn gathering on
its haunches, hungry
for dreams, again
dying
on tomorrow’s brightening lips.
Lost
Always
the broad light pushing
apart our
shining dome of sky, ringing
vertigo of curving
horizon; suffered my eyes
in its din of bright.
Dim of dusk
is where I find you
at the end, what
is there but night
its promise
holding close, hands
cupped round
not to smother
but to banish those
hobgoblins of day
beyond a campfire’s ring.
Let the thick dark fall,
earthen and wet
to blanket us in
a simple child’s fort
lit, now within
my sky the blurred blue
of your eyes, my horizon
the curve of your smile
everything now
as close as a kiss.
How we laugh
at the parallax,
the shifting perspective
between
camera one and camera two;
Time fumbling
about having lost our knowing
hands still finding
their own way.
Scant the warning; that tingle
on the nape
of the horizon. Dawn gathering on
its haunches, hungry
for dreams, again
dying
on tomorrow’s brightening lips.

