Icarus

My father
Collects the dried wax
On the tables of romantic dinners

We are too high up

And melts the passed time
Into a candle of his own
Our own

We are too high up

And when we give fire, we borrow light

Misplaced aromas call us stranger
But with eyes shut we are

Welcomed
Until the sun rises

We are

Author's Note

It has been too long :) I took a short hiatus from Writers Cafe, but I am back. I will be traveling for a week, but will return all feedback when I return!

Playing with the line breaks, would be interested in your thoughts

Reviews

[shutbudholdsabee]

Thank you for writing a poem with such complex metaphor, the spin on the story of Icarus is deeply original. If the wax holding your wings together is the waste product of your father's romance, as well as of passed time (excellent touch), which allows you to fly only at night and only so high, what is the point at which ruin awaits you if you approach? Emotional satisfaction, a completed family? I am probably completely off in left field of what you're trying to say, but it's an excellent puzzle.

[Navatechs LLC]

Damn, this was beautiful. I love the spacing and rhythm.

[Me]

The "misplaced aromas" line feels out of place.
The rest of lines are interesting. The breaks, the refrain, the half line to finish - evocative.