in the waning light
The streetlight flickers,
its circle thinning and swelling
like a tired breath.
A man drags a cart of bottles—
they strike and scatter
against each other,
a bright clatter
that almost arranges itself,
as if you could lean in
and hear the fragments
choose their own song.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 22nd, 2025 05:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Karoline
Offline)
Comments5
This vivid visual and auditory image sets the mood for the time of evening. It becomes alive in metaphor of waning life where the breath and even light in ones eyes vacillates diming from time to time and rattle in ones voice like the clink of bottles comes at the end of day. All mark the twilight. So subtle and so short the poem, day and life. A fave
Thanks Soren. And there is actually one such person I’ve seen during our twilight walks. 🙏🏻🕊️
You are most welcome my friend. Such people shadows and shades that fade in and out of the twilight
A picture in some ways familiar, but anyway one even I can understand.
Thanks Rik.
Thanks Dave🙏🏻🕊️
Good write A.
Thanks O 🙏🏻🕊️
@Karoline —Thanks for the Fave 🤩🙏🏻🕊️
Music can be found in many ways Rik.
Andy
Indeed, Andy. And that’s always a good thing to remember 🙏🏻🕊️
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