Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Despot

The moon is snugly nestled
in the nimbus of the night
refusing to be wrestled
from it’s dreams by pesky light

that pokes and prods insistently
with such transparent aims—
to rule the sky, if fleetingly
with fierce unyielding flames.

3 comments:

Shirley said...

Ahhh... better to be a fleeting flame than never to have flamed at all. ;) I really like this!

Art and Poetry said...

I agree nice one! nice rhyming words

rch said...

thanks!!