The Task

Moon-drop falls on the curled shoulders
And a fistful of shared secrets
Cooling a heart whose blood had run thin
From heartaches and regrets;

      Silent clouds drift overhead
And birds cease chirping songs
Just a noise of the ticking clock
Recollecting all that had gone wrong;

A warm ball of tattered love rolls out
Landing softly on the floor,
And a faded bandage of faithful strength
Whispering prayers and making amends
Masks bruises – the first to aid,
And the fist, now unclenched,
The gauze, in moonlight, drenched,
And eyes with hazy sight,
Watch the firefly’s glowing tail
Light sparks in the dark night.

Naturally, enchanted,
With the skill of rhyming granted
The slouched body straightens
Like a rehydrated leaf,
Scrambling arms look for a pen.

Hours later, a poem is written –
Celebrating love, life, and victory.

Somewhere, a reader smiles.

Trickling tears of renewed hope
When self-loathing smoke with the darkness elopes
All that is left where the firefly flutters,
An inspired heart free from artless shutters.


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