Candle Talk

A menagerie of words displayed on shelves as spoken, illuminated by the flickering flame that our whispers only seem to feed. Our eyes reflect dancing light as we grin and giggle, the midnight hour heightening our glee. We put our secrets in the window, it’s a fire sale, everything must go. We throw rumors back and forth, our carefully guarded gossip traded on the low. And yawns and sighs pepper our long winded monologues, our stories only awoken by the shadows cast by candlelight. Where gray is grayer still, and there seems no difference between black and white. A steady race with tick tick of the clock and the onward tread of time. Our words race the morning, the sun; the finish line.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Candle and good conversation. A perfect place.
"A steady race with tick tick of the clock and the onward tread of time. Our words race the morning, the sun; the finish line."
I liked the ending above. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote