Micropoetry 12-14-2019

flying free
on the night
of my surrender

more gifts
will never be enough
for the little tyrant

written into stone
she is a part of this city
and will stay a thousand years

a thousand years since
the same old man
awaits the rising sun

holding a serpent
she offers me a kiss

when we found him
the ice still wrapped
around his hand
that pointed up to the stars
a million years ago

a maze of red
blue and white
as I’m lost in the lines
where lights are flashing
around the corridor
and before me
the life that peers
between the blaze

sketched in lines
along her arms
she holds the infant
as if a part
of another world

ancient pages
torn up, burned
and come to life

resting atop
a snow-filled hill
I hear the merry sounds
of yesteryear

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