The Night Circus
(a 55)
You told me
my eyes
were lanterns.
You stood them
around the bigtop
while you brushed
the clouds into my hair,
then on the highwire,
where you washed
in the moon;
but the wind came
and took their fire.
The night-circus burned.
My hair flew up
in silver flames
of moon-twisted sun,
and I ran.
March 2022
posted for dVerse Poets
Images: Head in the Clouds, photomanipulation © Thomas Dodd Fair Use
Paysage Orageux, 1901 photographer unknown Fair Use
