He could see
The writing was on the wall.
Wretched letters
Sketched in childlike scrawl
immaculate
And immortal
Like falling stars
Across his darkening thought,
Scattering his peace
like a thin farmer’s seeds
re-igniting those words
that would not burn out.
Gnawing his energy,
Like an unfed pet
Thrown scraps of raw hope.
He studied them,
again, and again and again,
Like an ancient scholar
Deciphering a fading text.
He lent an ear to the TV
Listening to the news,
like an audio version
Of a black novel
Starved of a hero.
Loneliness swelled
Washing clean fresh hopes.
The hum of darkness
cursed his mornings,
Leaving monochrome
memories
Of her red hair and neon lips,
fading like a picture
on a bleached canvas
abstracted and stretched,
between hope and nothing.
Gripping his white cane,
he closed the door
and stared back at his footsteps,
His cheek blushed
from missed kisses and a darkening sun.
His heels tip- tapped on the pavement
Like a conductor
Arranging his own swan song.
The estate’s kids screech
Bled from his ears.
Traffic hum and jet planes were lost,
As he stopped.
His cane felt for the curb,
And with a deep breath
He stepped into the traffic.
The writing was on the wall.
Wretched letters
Sketched in childlike scrawl
immaculate
And immortal
Like falling stars
Across his darkening thought,
Scattering his peace
like a thin farmer’s seeds
re-igniting those words
that would not burn out.
Gnawing his energy,
Like an unfed pet
Thrown scraps of raw hope.
He studied them,
again, and again and again,
Like an ancient scholar
Deciphering a fading text.
He lent an ear to the TV
Listening to the news,
like an audio version
Of a black novel
Starved of a hero.
Loneliness swelled
Washing clean fresh hopes.
The hum of darkness
cursed his mornings,
Leaving monochrome
memories
Of her red hair and neon lips,
fading like a picture
on a bleached canvas
abstracted and stretched,
between hope and nothing.
Gripping his white cane,
he closed the door
and stared back at his footsteps,
His cheek blushed
from missed kisses and a darkening sun.
His heels tip- tapped on the pavement
Like a conductor
Arranging his own swan song.
The estate’s kids screech
Bled from his ears.
Traffic hum and jet planes were lost,
As he stopped.
His cane felt for the curb,
And with a deep breath
He stepped into the traffic.
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