Dreamy Autumn Nights

By Wil C. Fry, Oct. 9, 1999, 00:31 (Saturday)

Copyright © 1999 by Wil C. Fry. All rights reserved.

A monster is there
And the genie grants none of the wishes
Scaly, slimy, and beautiful things abound
Happiness isnít that difficult when youíre stuck
In the inner chamber of syrupy sugar sweetness
But flies are attracted too
For days, itís all Iíve heard
The sound of green leaves turning
Aching timbers groaning to support the earth, then snapping
Bumpy roads lead you to colors that are dark
And shadows hide what you donít want to see
But still I seek it, I search for that ungraspable mystical wisp of nothing
Feet sliding on air, toes tingling, and shiny shapes upon the wall tantalize
And tease
The night sky whispers and squeaks, growing cranky with ill ease
Resolve is outdated; I think Iíll change my name
Strange dead creatures tap the shoulder and call softly
Listening to haunted music, liquid scent that dries up the day
Bright darkness speeds along slowly, false truths proudly hide
The air thickens with moisture and a mirage of midnight velvet descends
The strange secrets surface though none can see
And bold voices grow quiet while ghosts are out to play
Far distant sensations hover nearby and fantasy touches the
The shroud falls upon us and muted notes ride the air in company with
Breezes and stillness swirl upon the drowsy
And blooms close for safety
One last cigarette couldnít hurt
Close your eyes and sleep — wide awake in the solitude of your dreams
I watch the town while itís winding down and wipes the frown
From the face of a child bundled into softness
You are not safe until you stop breathing so enjoy what you can, little one
Closed are the doors of the chapel, for God is sleeping
And you should too

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