adventures in dysthymia

Friday, July 29, 2005

CAMPFIRE

The stars were the lights
of a Las Vegas casino,
filling the desert night
with promise.

Should I have thrown
my last silver dollar down,
anted once again,
knowing I'd already lost?

And each star had
a shining name,
too far away
for us to read.

The world sagged
like a toasted marshmallow;
I had no chocolate
for s'mores.

Look, there are angels--
angels with fiery wings.

Stephen Brooke ©2005

bits and pieces of this came to me as I was falling asleep a couple nights ago -- not an uncommon occurence -- and it coalesced into these verses this afternoon.

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