A chronicle of the misadventures of a would be writer

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Elegy on a Light Bulb

It flickered
Like the shy blinking
Practiced to perfection
By the seasoned coquette.
It has lived;
Its virtuosity
So many.
But no longer.
The darkness is alluring,
So deceptively soothing.
The time has come
For the heathen plunge
Into the forbidden pool
Rippling with ecstasy;
The time has come
To die.

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