Sunday, August 14, 2016

The Loop

Somewhere under a lighthouse
Where waves bash the rocks
A man wakes up covered in sweat
His room smells like wet socks
He reaches for some water
And kicks down the glass
Get up from his bed, slips
And fall on his ass
The sound of the waves
Akin to Poseidon's laugh
Breath knocked from his lungs
The man starts to cough
He gulps down some air
Like a fish about to drown
Looks out of the only window
He can't help but frown
The sky is clouded with purple smoke
While the sea is soot grey
Whiffs of white clouds puncture
through the skies so strange
The sun rises, a muted shadow of orange
He looks, eyes wide open
The dance of colors in the sky
A pale terra cotta bronze gleam
Streaks through, as if shy
A streak of subdued matte mauve
Lends the a look so suave
And so beneath the lighthouse
The man drunk on the sky so deep
He falls back where he stands
And drifts off to a drunken sleep

This poem is only 25% mine. Rest of it, is yours.

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