Until the Sun Dips Low

From within the hallowed halls
Of sleepless, sordid, whitewashed walls
The angry, argyle antelopes
Prance and preen on rocky slopes
…until the sun dips low.

Poets scrawl in deference
Chameleon crawls on broken fence
Bathtubs overflow with wine
And every beggar swears they’re fine
…until the sun dips low.

Among the scion’s welcome words
Where tit-for-tat drowns songs of birds
The baker makes her dance and dance
To please his selfish arrogance
…until the sun dips low.

One wonders when we’ll wake at last
And render judgement on the past
To wit the clown removes his face
Revealing all the smoke we’ve chased
…until the sun dips low.

© Brandewulf 2018

18 comments

  1. I read this yesterday and was mesmerized. I read it again last night and was transported. I read it again this morning and feel in awe of what you can do. You are taking over the sky, showing the expanse of your wings, diving to discover the facets of your voice. You leave me humbled, Wulf!

    Liked by 1 person

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