Fallen- A poem.

He stands alone on the corner.
Shaggy brown hair hangs
and tangles with the tatters of his clothes.
The colors have left him, so he blends
with the fog that has its fingers
wrapped in everything.

I barely see him, a ghost
in front of a window. But our
eyes meet. His eyes pierce the fog
and burrow into mine—
time slows, my speedometer
needle stuck on thirty-seven.
He glows, like St. Elmo’s fire,
I blink and it’s broken.
Those eyes held mine
for a fraction of eternity.

Something unsaid stuck
in my throat. Look back—
lost in the fog and the traffic.

But there, a glimmer.

Featured Image by Fred Mancosu under Creative Commons.

Advertisements

Categories: poetry

Tagged as: , , ,

Thoughts? Comments? Let me know...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s