By Bill Duvall

sliding by me in the darkness
on your silver wheels
your cold suggestion
foaled in the sunlight
of a wasted afternoon
your size was our unfolding.

and you were stuffed
with trucks and drums
till Santa leading you away
paused beside us
on the rooftops of the day
journeying through candles
cradles carpets bedrooms
hopes schools
basements and balloons.

the birthday that will never come
is here and gone dark forces too
sunsets flaming through the transom
through the stained glass iris
as your shattered eyes grow old for you

floored ghost, come fluttering anew!!

Retired Fed, now Baltimore realtor. Playwright (and actor) with one production under my belt. Writing poetry after 25-year dry spell. My work is appearing, or slated to appear in Comrades, Poetry.com, others. billduvall@aol.com


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