no one

losing light,
he takes a chance,
and hurls one up high,
way above the lights:
a last chance at a
little romance;
and who knew,
but that little scamp
took flight,
into the night,
and now there is
nothing around,
but what was found:
which is perfect;
and what it is inside,
is quite the sight:
who gets to call an end
to this one?
no one.

October 24, 2009, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

No comments:

Post a Comment