Spaceman's Pancakes

Steering towards the Weird since 2010

Poem of the Day # 12 – 7/1/17

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She is sent to bed,
In these summer months,
Just as the sun is breaking the horizon,
Just as the light turns golden,
Just as the fireflies emerge.
How can she ever be convinced
That there is nothing magic
being left behind?
Who could ever sell that lie
While the earth emits sparks
And clouds become
cotton candy?
I have sat and watched
As the evening has come
And gone and seen these illusions fade.
Still, I will struggle to sleep
Fearing that there is magic
That I might miss.

Author: E.H. Decker

E.H. Decker is the name of a pen, like Mark Twain, not A.T. Cross. Said pen belongs to a father of two writing between jobs on movies, parenting and obsessing over movies, tv, music, wine and words. Comments here are encouraged so long as you can be respectful to others and you have actually taken the time to read what you're commenting on.

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