shrapnel
like
when that irresistibly
delicate
glass ornament
laden with memories
of the bygone
fell off its precarious
perch
unexpectedly
& with a sudden pop
cracked
hopelessly
shattering
a million
little mirrors
were born that night
scattering
years hence
some still jab soles
& toes
making bare skin
bleed
like dark metallic shadow
of dramatic makeup.
Love, the remembered song by Fernando Pessoa
-
Love, the remembered song,
Return it to me now.
At night, my eyes closed, it has only grown,
Your voice makes my heart long
For all that you vow.
You sing ne...
1 day ago
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5 comments:
For some reason, 'metallic shadow' really pleases me.
Thanks for the poem, Noxalio.
PG
Wonderful, Nox, those million little mirrors that still jab, I can almost feel them.
wonderful... words weaved together so well.
Shrapnel and shards have long lives. Love the image of a million mirrors being born.
thank you Peter, Elisabeth, lines n shades and Annie ...
yeah, careful where you step, no?
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