|Yet Another Composition From My Windowsill At Midnight (standard:travel stories, 160 words)|
|Author: Finn McKool||Added: Apr 17 2003||Views/Reads: 2086/1||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Another one I wrote long ago.|
The bloated moon Waxing waning full new The night breathing Cool inhale Warm exhale Midnight smokes a cigarrette Time draws out Like a long Kansas road Boredom over takes And the minute hand edges on Like magic menaces Never moving when you're looking They stand stock still When you're bored enough to watch the clock You get distracted, look away And they pounce That moment Has flown the coop. Lost in an ocean of Moments gone. Yet here the poet sits Daring the pain of dreams Risking the chance of hope Place your bets Heads or tails Simple propositions Made by conman magicians In your head Do you dare eat the peach? Do you dare to dream you can? The poet dares. But I don't want to Be afraid Afraid of the dark Losing the adventure And mystery it holds Nor do I wish to Fear the light And refuse to face the dawn And the destiny of my dreams Tweet
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