Lexicon


A canvas turns black, all ready for the paint
A fitting end for each and every day
The picture is the same, painted again and again
Yet I return, look at the night sky, forget my haste.

The white specks reveal themselves
Before long, stars shine everywhere
Hot flaming light, from miles away
Mellowed down to fit my stare.

Yes it's a little strange
That out of all the hundred ways
I choose to derive comfort
From something a million miles away.

Looking at the sky, it's therapeutic
Connecting dots like I connect the stars
A bubble of calm, away from the wars
If not deep thoughts,what else do we think in the dark?

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem