musing

 
 
the low bent winter’s sun reducing day    
to flat line level in dawn’s grave decay  
as night’s fog cloys the opened mouth with need    
speaks darkly with the choking po'm I read    
   
a single candle lit that shadows kill    
the weakest flame to bayly hold black’s chill    
with one last willful raise a hopeless head    
so you appear, not death but life instead    
   
in vaguest glow, dark night shines brightest sun    
po'ms laid aside with new hope now begun    
that lighting will with heartly verse caress    
consume this heart already you possess    
   
from the Pass It On competition...