Ken Allan Dronsfield writes

Final Gasp 

 

impatiently waiting for twilight's final gasp

late summer heated night slowly emerges
breezes of lightness bend grasses so soft
ducks needing rest land upon the bay. 

light a Camel and watch the smoke rise
in a star filled sky of a darkish purple haze
sit on the porch as the small waves crest
while an airliner high in the sky heads east.

citronella is lit as mosquito's now swarming
a full moon reaches towards a nervous sky
drifting in thought like a misty fog passing
in a blink of an eye, candle wicks dance.

life brings to boil memories of lost time
years spent without in a world full of with
cascades of dreams or fantasies live on
derelict of mind, hated even unto myself.

 

Front Porch Light -- Kellie Marian Hill