Thursday, February 16, 2012



The night can be too dark,
the lights, far too bright
to bear either long.

Seek the twilit street;
such dreaming shadows wait
in the heart of the city,

where fitful sleep may sigh
behind the open windows.
Might we find our truth

under some dim street-light,
in the flicker of neon
left burning through the dark?

These ways stand emptied of day,
of all their meaning, canyons   
of refuge, of forgetting,

when nights may grow too dark
and lights become too bright.

Stephen Brooke ©2012

A bit of a poem, three accents to the line. I had the first stanza in my notes 'forever' but finally figured out the rest of it.

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