Med Night Midnights
ilove this poem
My loam colored eyes sifts to warm shadows of lambent moonlight. Lolling on glossy italics amidst some orange streaks, dashes of stabiles, few pinkish bold and gauzy sketches on plaits of soft yellows.
On one slovenly side, my almost empty coffee cup reeks of potent brew, rests, forlorn top denser texts stashed from a giant shelves while my dropping lids smell of the lamp and yield to my laden lashes.
Awakened by incessant shrills, lazy blinks obliterate the blurs and clear the path for me to lead the queue to the pluvial pump where the morn’s icy bites douse my flesh with swift sprinkles then the blurs recur hound me in odder opacity blinks, not just a few, sadly-
My glasses are still worn.
/102598rcg ^______^
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