Passing porch-light
where grey love-moths
flutter to each other how each lover's
Love is like the Sun
(stare too long into its face and you'll go blind)
Through lingering dead leaves at night
scatter drops of wine
for new violets and death-beetles
Love is like the Moon.
Where does the path lead?
Each to their own place is led.
About the Creator
Halston Williams
Eternal Student: literature, poetry, history, art, and philosophy. English Teacher. Writer & painter. Traveller & skier (when there's $$$). I'm young enough to be foolish, yet old enough to know better. Lover of dark & beautiful things.
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Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
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More stories from Halston Williams and writers in Poets and other communities.
Lost
Who am I? The question remains in my mind. It began after my first child. I had no idea who I was anymore, but I was too young to actually know then either. Then, after that I joined the Army. When I came home after joining the Army, it was rough. My scheduled daily routine no longer existed. It may have only been six months, but it certainly had a mental impact. Barely able to function in normal society anymore, I had to push through.
By Naomi McDonald6 days ago in Journal
Comments (1)
Excellent poem!