deepundergroundpoetry.com
Aloeswood
A saucer
Stained in the shape of tea leaves,
Now serves as an ashtray.
Beside it lies a blue Bic lighter,
The metal guard still hot to the touch.
Amidst the ashes of facades long gone,
A shiny steel plate holds an aloeswood twig upright.
The twig burns-
Not quite a blaze,
But a glowing smolder.
The red-hot burn slowly descends,
Leaving an ashen tower in its wake.
The ashes hold the twig’s shape;
A gray ghost of what once was.
A facade so fragile
Aeolus’ softest whisper can’t help but topple it.
As a new pile of dust forms,
I curse myself for not closing the window.
Stained in the shape of tea leaves,
Now serves as an ashtray.
Beside it lies a blue Bic lighter,
The metal guard still hot to the touch.
Amidst the ashes of facades long gone,
A shiny steel plate holds an aloeswood twig upright.
The twig burns-
Not quite a blaze,
But a glowing smolder.
The red-hot burn slowly descends,
Leaving an ashen tower in its wake.
The ashes hold the twig’s shape;
A gray ghost of what once was.
A facade so fragile
Aeolus’ softest whisper can’t help but topple it.
As a new pile of dust forms,
I curse myself for not closing the window.
Published 7th Apr 2017
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7th Apr 2017 10:38pm
8th Apr 2017 6:43am
echo of the wind;
the gray ghost of long ago & far away.
a poem that quivers by an open window...
the gray ghost of long ago & far away.
a poem that quivers by an open window...
9th Apr 2017 6:51pm
