Untitled free form
Sunshine falls
on naked walls
in whose shade
he sits
behind a door
its lock clogged with flesh
torn from the bones
of his last venture out.
Sunshine calls
through solid walls
to him who sits
in shadow
bog mud on his boots
strumming strings
tonguing words with wings
he sets to fly
a salute (a cry!)
to those beyond the wall.
Sunshine thaws
the morning's lonely chill
and warms my waiting
where I sit
at a door
in a wall
beyond whose blank face
lies sacred shade
I dare not violate
nor let the sun
to sear the shadows
from whose violet
a call comes
winging
to my heart
This poem is copyright 2014 Kingu, to whom comments may be sent.
