20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


2 Comments

Of sunsets and swings – a sestina

The subtle glimmers of first light
Begin their charming
Magic on the green grass where swings Lie
The ancient encasement dropped
And burdened swings slowly bow
Then rise

Yet the swing with its rose
It couldnt outmatch the light
Slashing through the trees’ bow
No soul could it charm
For even as rain drops
The lifeless swings lay.

The lifeless swings lie
To themselves, they cannot beat the sunrise
Nor the golden sunrays dripping
From the sky. The swings’ own Light -
Merely a glint of a bracelet charm
Flashing just as an arrow leaves a bow

The swings threaten to bow
For it tells itself, lie, lie, lie -
As no charm
Could get the swing to rise
Like a new arising light

I hear a leaky tap – drip
drip.
The tears of the swings. It bows
Down to demands of the light
And resolves itself to lie
Forever. With a dead rose
The swing has lost his charm

But when night comes, the swing is charming
For when the curtains of light drop
The darkness unfolds. Then swings’ glow rises
Its now that it takes its final bow
The swing creeps into where shadows of the night lie
It has found its Light.

No more charming the day, for the bowl
Of sorrow is too great too drop – the sun does not lie.
Night, the swing rises. The night, the swing lights.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 3,566 other followers

%d bloggers like this: