Treasure Island

Paula M. Puddephatt


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Ebony darkness
weaves her own melodies
into the silent sky.

Beautiful memories
light up the darkness,
each one exploding, like a firework -
each one, duly expiring.

Then those final colours fade,
as the display draws to a close -

leaving me wondering,
in the empty aftermath
of calm skies:
Wasn't it all just an
exquisite illusion?
Is anything real?

Submitted: Friday, February 21, 2014

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Comments about this poem (Display by Paula M. Puddephatt )

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  • Nika Mcguin (2/21/2014 6:20:00 PM)

    Yes, some things are real - they just don't last unfortunately. That's life, thats why this poem is so relatable. Well written Paula~ (Report) Reply

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