Poet of Light

The beacon skims

the waves

but no ships sail

this hour of night


A false dawn lights

the horizon, and

obsidian skies blush pale

as the stars shine

their last


My small lantern


what shadows it can tame.

The rest wait their turn


The mulled wine

warms the bones

and softens the edges

of harsh memories


My breathing,

the scratch of the pen,

the sizzling pop of an oil bubble

sound all the louder

at this hour


Far below,

waves whisper


of sighs


The keepers of

the past

watch from

realms unseen,

but whether in

approval or censure,

I can’t tell.


Either way,

I’m undone.


A red gold band

of light

sears the seam of

the horizon


I finish the wine.

I finish the page,

and close my eyes

to the sweet brightness


And once more

the walls crumble

to ruin,

the light


and I fade

like the names

of lovers

drawn in the sand

before high tide.




Author: smithaw50

I live in NJ. Concentrating now on a getting a full time writing career started. Glad you could be with me on the journey. Ready? Here we go...

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