View From My Window
firefly
I am so tired I can barely
lift my feet onto the step of
the porch,
but you don't have the time to help
me to my feet. It would be the act
of a good Samaritian, and you
don't fit the bill.
You never have.
The boards are not conditioned
to hold someone as tired as
I am. I fall asleep as the
darkness draws up over
the hills and the night heaves
its first kind breath. My
vision is a blur of amber and
wood.
I cannot see outside because the
light has expired into
the gloom. It dies against the
burning flame from a firefly,
who never knew it was there.
(note: I just wrote it, so it's still a fairly early rough
draft.)
lift my feet onto the step of
the porch,
but you don't have the time to help
me to my feet. It would be the act
of a good Samaritian, and you
don't fit the bill.
You never have.
The boards are not conditioned
to hold someone as tired as
I am. I fall asleep as the
darkness draws up over
the hills and the night heaves
its first kind breath. My
vision is a blur of amber and
wood.
I cannot see outside because the
light has expired into
the gloom. It dies against the
burning flame from a firefly,
who never knew it was there.
(note: I just wrote it, so it's still a fairly early rough
draft.)
Comment On This Poem ---
firefly
firefly
