Monday, January 25, 2010

Waxing Poetic

the afterglow is in its death throes
the sun of a last touch
stealing all warmth as it sets
so far in the distance
withered fingers claw
where playful hands once held
trails of desolation
on soft pink flesh
i close my eyes and try to sleep
to a lullaby of sirens
tepid water lapping
at the tips of toes
for a good place to jump in

No comments: