Vignettes at 3am

Gray hours of insomnia

Steam bubbles from the cauldron of night
and hangs heavy on the hour,
like a soggy pair of woolen socks.

Street lamps stand sentinal watch
barely discernable
under cover of ghostly persuasion.

Asphalt pathways of respite
stretch and turn silently
in peaceful hazy dreams.

It’s here I’m found, held captive
in the boundaries of restless solitude
to breathe the stillness till dawn.
 

 

 

Author's Note

Please tell me what you think.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

most excellent...i'd consider sending the "watch" on its way...watching is what sentinals do, or are supposed to...

[Alex Annesty]

What a delightful piece. I've been in this situation many times and your wonderfully evocative poem took me straight to that place. These are four stanzas of beautifully imagery, which capture the mood perfectly. Bravo!

[robert]

'captive in the boundaries of restless solitude'...Well written with excellent metaphors. As Lesa said, we have been in contact some time ago. I can certainly relate to the poem.

[An Open Venue]

Well, I do not see this a dialogue. but I do see it as a wonderful series of moments expressed through well crafted words.

Ven