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The placid evening emits
from unwonted quarters around
the street lamps that- yellow, white, red-
serve as windows to a prehistoric glow.
The eaten up progress of the year
has brought to these oasis of brightness
insects that dance as if to be
a mosquito has made
its way inside the train.
I bend forward to reach out
And... I miss it.
But now, the train, from whose window
I been watching those insects and torches,
has made its way into the station.
Time to get down.
Creatures of mouse-holes
to reinforce the reign of lamps.
| There's a sense of closeness to some natural mystery in your poems. Your use of light and nature to explore the inner life that entangles with the outer is a bit distancing but at the same time calls the reader closer. It's a great mix.|
I really like the little details in this one, the last couple of lines especially.
|| Posted on 2013-05-06 00:00:00 | by emwren | [ Reply to This ] |