Amber spills like liquid sun,
Across the wooden floor,
Doorknobs jingle, windows rattle,
Like an orchestra of war.
Entreat they must in darkness,
Where sense cannot be found,
For I am no longer myself to be,
Who I am when the light flickers out.
- Author: ChippedNailPolish ( Offline)
- Published: May 15th, 2020 10:36
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 46
- User favorite of this poem: siranswerer.
Comments1
I can almost see a scene, in a wooden inn, at night, and a knocked over candle.
Thank you, I'm glad the imagery came across!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.