Decay in Bloom

Dusk clouds dark’ning yellow

Their edges out of focus

Just like an ancient photograph

In the flower of decay

Like the fire within ashes

Or husk of a burnt bulb

That drifts down and condenses

Waits patiently for my footfall.

Why do we cherish ghosts,

Letting friends slip by?

--

тоска

An hour spent happy.

Vintage incandescent, hygge a sacred presence

leaves, like opportunities.

It tastes like ashes in my mouth.

Splashdown, middle of a day best forgotten.

Time burns, fear churns, my heart

screams its native tongue. Reach out

by night, for that life more real than mine.

Ghosts take shape, but I refuse to yield. I

“learn to labor and to wait.”

-Psalm of Life, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow