“Talking Lights and What They Say”

The cool south wind blows at my back,
while the vivid scarlet sun appeases my eyes and
bestows a feeling of solitude I had been short of for so long.
The hues of dusk remind me of a symphony,
complete with intense highs and shadowy lows, a spectrum
of potency and influence,
as well as melancholy and limitation.
My views on life commence to animate in my mentality as I
march down the extensive, meandering,
cemented road back home.

I flip my cigarette into the breeze.
It blusters in the wake of me and discharges
searing embers and ash against the aged pathway
leading en route for my residence.
I recollect precedent reminiscences and procedures
from my upbringing, several taking position at some
stage in my summit of happiness commencing ten to five years ago.
Birthdays, holidays, and blistering summer daylight rerun
in the facade of my brain, abducted from the recesses
they had inhabited brusquely
after the occurrence took place.
Skateboards, water guns, and hamburgers stimulate
my senses and reincarnate my thoughts during
the time they had occurred.

I can’t hear the reverberation of my shoes scraping on the
asphalt road as I go round the crook onto the concluding
stretch of my expedition back to my inhabitance.
I fumble in my pocket for my lighter, destined to draw
it out in the expectation of lighting another smoke.
I do, and exhale the thick gray cloud from my lungs,
examining it intermingle with the oxygen
that surrounds everything and everyone.

I arrive at my destination and stare at the
mysterious creamy heavens, gaping into the stars,
as if hypnotized by the illumination they grant,
the essence they confer, and the optimism they ingrain
in the hearts of every daughter and son underneath their protection.
I conclude my cigarette and brush it into a nearby puddle.
I respire a sigh of recognition, revolve in the direction of my obverse terrace,
amble near the treads, ascend them, and enter my domicile.

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About Robert L. Franklin

Ah, the About Me section - social networking's excuse for you sounding like an elitist prick. Hmm... what to say? What to say?
This entry was posted in Springtime In Atlantis and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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