Flicker

-

             


               

 Flickering

maniacally in its 

                            maddening stillest silence,

Night drags its sack of drowsy dreams 

into morning's wakeup regret.

Yet, barely alive, ventures out, 

(despite the dread of deepest doubt),

and subtly attempts a starving 

moment's lack of any 

soulful, hearing peer.

    Ingratiates itself to be 

                    beholden to a more tender, 

more merciful ear. 

For regret is born of darkness 

                  softly snowing down 

into mounds

                                    of subtle silence 

                          that falls upon all 

souls of wanderlust's call.

Cold as ice, cold as death's will

                 betraying all vows of wantonness.

Deaf ears unhearing can still 

the yearning heart until

                                    no flickering flames 

                                dare 

ever 

                                                            smolder 

                                                                                there.



~P.S. Colley~


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