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.
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Author:
ChippedNailPolish (
Offline) - Published: May 15th, 2020 10:36
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 46
- Users favorite of this poem: siranswerer
Offline)
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!
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