Winged horses
Who cannot fly
Cast in bronze
Tears in eye
They cannot lift
The feathered gowns
As tourists photograph
They make no sound.
Windswept now
In Winters gale
To forage
For eyes to frame
In wonders glow
Upon a freezing night
Those mighty wings
Free of flight.
In silence
Loneliness it bites
Upon a bridge
Where cherubs dance
And night time
With its cloak of grey
Falls as mist
No words to say.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: August 24th, 2025 01:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 17
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, RSM0812
Offline)
Comments2
It is the empty cold feel and incomplete thought that comes from this poem that is its power and strength. It leaves me feeling adrift and alone. Very nicely written and a fave
most kind, thanking you, appreciated
You are most welcome
This is my favorite poe. In many weeks. Thank you for your talent. Great write.
Very kind, its much appreciated, thanking you
Sorry poem
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