In old library
Read Dante by candlelight,
As moths ate words.
A pregnant red bus
The faces unnerve you,
An old friend waves.
I draw the curtains,
Killing a patch of sunbeam,
A peeping neighbour.
Insomnia,
I watch silvered shadows walk
On a moonlit path.
A mute observer
Veiled in leafy vines,
Chameleon of a door.
Old tales revive
As one combs a sister’s hair,
Time halts to smile.
(Photo courtesy: millyonair.files.wordpress.com, lucasusual.com, 123rf.com, www.kershisnik.com)
