When midnight wept
In greater sorrow
The flickering flame
Of candles horror
Moved violently
From the past
Dampened eyes
Of shadows cast.
The mosaic floor
In silence flinched
The marbled walls
In mourning since
The echo left
It faded, died
Its draining voice
Now beautified.
To leave each word
To feel the loss
A scented touch
Drapes across
A meloncholy
A vision that died
Something deep
Though not defined.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: May 11th, 2026 03:15
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 48
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, RSM0812, Tristan Robert Lange, arqios
Offline)
Comments7
Beautiful Norman and a fave
many thanks, much appreciated
You are most welcome Norman
Another great write
most kind, thanking you always appreciated
Good write N. There you are at the bus stop - weeping at midnight, still waiting. Will you get the No 11 bus instead!? lol.
ive joined the bus stop group called midnight weepers lol
Reading this felt like stepping into one of those moments where memory becomes almost physical, Norman. The candles, marble, echoes, shadows…it all creates this deeply mournful dreamscape that lingered with me afterward. Really moving work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
always thankful for read and comments, much appreciated
Deeply moving, dear friend 🕊️🙏
thanking you for reading much appreciated
Most welcome, friend 🕊️🙏
That vision will arise one day in the light Norman.
Andy
thanks for read always appreciated my friend
Melancholic and moving
thanking you, always much appreciated
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