Inebriated lumbers a staggering figure,
So I saw,
Floundering under dim streetlight.
The song from his lips
Falters with his clumsy pace
I peeped thru' the window,
The song scarcely made it
To my famish ear.
The grave silence of the night
Help me catch up the theme,
Everything was clammed up.
But sing he did,
His voice grew hoarse crescendo
With the gusty wind,
About long longed love
He can't come home to,
And of ephemeral life
He's helpless of.
The song flew dying
Like big black bat flaps off to his place
Towards sepulchral darkness.
My feelings dashed about and halt.
I ne'er peep again.
Never.
.
.
____Angie Zingsol____
©angiezing
A