Wandersong Poem by Neil Kennett

Wandersong



Late night, dislocated Sun
The street's embrace and soothing trace
of passers-by long passed away
There's something soothing about the cold
it makes you feel alive

Surrounded by tomorrow's air
The evening anaesthetic
Who's stars flicker on cold canvas
As a symphony of light
And the rising moon seems prophetic
Of hours to come in black and white

The trees now stand to attention
And the pavement braced for a crowd
A light hangs in wait for redemption
Distorted, serene and unbowed

But now my guiding light burns once again
With sudden, alarming complexity
Cigarette smoke glides through the leaves
A morning aroma
As a new wind weeps in the branches
And they whistle a melody, a clear call for home

Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: night
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Neil Kennett

Neil Kennett

Colchester
Close
Error Success