The moonlight painted her white.
In the city which was shimmering
in the stream of neon lights,
she was a strange sight,
a fairy bewildered by the flashlight,
standing at a crossroads, and afraid to choose a road.
Ineffectual angel, always wasting time ;
out of the context, always at a wrong place and at a wrong time.
The moonlight painted her white ,
and the lamplight gave her a shadow.
And she was struggling to keep her wings
and to keep her feet on the ground.
The wings were a gift that had remained in wraps too long,
and the feet were sore from walking barefoot on the sand.
Now,she would fain exchange the wings for a pair of shoes.
in the stream of neon lights,
she was a strange sight,
a fairy bewildered by the flashlight,
standing at a crossroads, and afraid to choose a road.
Ineffectual angel, always wasting time ;
out of the context, always at a wrong place and at a wrong time.
The moonlight painted her white ,
and the lamplight gave her a shadow.
And she was struggling to keep her wings
and to keep her feet on the ground.
The wings were a gift that had remained in wraps too long,
and the feet were sore from walking barefoot on the sand.
Now,she would fain exchange the wings for a pair of shoes.
Sushama Karnik (c)
Night Wind, 2006 by Sally Storch (b. 1952)
Meritați o pereche de pantofi de aur...
ReplyDeleteExcelent poem, ca de obicei, dragă poetă!
Wow, you said I deserve a pair of gold shoes!Thank you so much Sem!
ReplyDelete