Sprite-like eyes,
rainbow glimmer,
delighting,
no need to try,
the sunbeams stretch
from there to evermore,
a chest-full of memories stored,
but I flitter them
to the wind,
like vagrant butterflies
they linger
and they gain height,
they soar,
on the breeze
they carry,
unwanted, lightening
their loads,
becoming less heavy,
until light as burnt ash
detailing what I don’t want,
ignited beneath that full moon,
under the delicate sky,
and an internal sprite dances
without an imp,
mischievous was he,
playfully devious,
some might have seen or agreed.
© 2021 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay
Leave a comment