In the candlelight
you find a flicker of hope,
and gently tiptoe
+++
towards the exit
in the wake of deep shadows
that part like oceans.
+++
Ruby-eyed, they smirk.
The wooden door creaks open .
You shield it - too late!
+++
The dark consumes you,
and that small flicker of hope
is gone with the wind.
About the Creator
J. R. Lowe
By day, I'm a PhD student, by night.... I'm still a PhD student, but sometimes I procrastinate by writing on Vocal. Based in Brisbane, Australia.
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More stories from J. R. Lowe and writers in Poets and other communities.
This One Time At Starbucks
The Pug was sitting inside a red wagon with wooden sides and plastered with stickers like ‘Doggy Power!” and “I'm a puppy at heart", and other such nonsense. Judging by that and the amount of doggy things the woman had with her, including a bag that looked a lot like a diaper bag, and the way the lady's entire universe was circling around this mutt, I'd say this was her child. She was the type of woman, who, when asked about grandkids, she'd say, "This is your grandchild."
By Becky Troup6 days ago in Humans
Comments (1)
Brrr… is it cold in here or is it just you? Seriously.. I need a blanket.