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| photo courtesy of Chris Galford |
Paint cans in hand
We rule the night.
Urban fireflies we burn
Bright. We buzz
We hum. We leave
Our mark against the sky.
Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
The day is not so kind.
Hot sun burns our skin.
Hot words spit in faces
Burn our spirits to ash
Black as the streets where
We escape.
See our words erased
Our images whitewashed.
Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
Sundown comes.
Night calls us like a pheromone.
Paint cans in hand
We stretch our wings, aching to fly.
Some day they'll see us.
Some day we'll reach the sun.
Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew.
5 comments:
yep, its all about the fall....how was your trip?
Very spirited lines, emotional with details that stimulate the senses. "We stretch our wings, aching to fly. / Some day they'll see us." Well said. excellent work with the prompt.
If he hadn't fallen, nobody would remember the story.
Damn good!
"Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew."
Brilliant...
love how you brought in the line from the image to stand as your refrain and wrapped it with the plight of those who create such works. very nice bop.
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