Poetry

Poem: On The Porch

 

On a quiet night,

the old man

smokes a stogie

sitting on the porch.

He can only watch

the little beetles

with lanterns

light up the sky.

Now he knows better,

he doesn’t chase

after them,

collect fireflies

in Mason jars.

He doesn’t pull

their wings apart,

curious about how

they glimmer and fly.

He knows that

their blinking bulbs

are temporary

as his life,

the fading light

that glows.

©️mft

9 comments on “Poem: On The Porch

  1. Beautiful. Hauntingly so.

  2. Words that come after you in a beautiful dark way

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: