I perch in pensive self-confinement

here atop the western bastion

surrounded by heavenly hues

of gold, orange and tangerine

they encompass me

another wasted glorious sunset

spent watching

feathered acrobats of the sky

performing

their winged aerial feats.

No regretful tears

just a morbid dryness

about my eyes

that once looked out

across the desert for your return

now the arid emptiness

has slowly crept

downward

encroaching upon my heart.

A heart that will shortly wither

into the sands of the desert

quickly to be joined

by the snipped red daisy

in my feeble hands.

© D.B. Hall

Excerpt from the book Pebbles in the Stream

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About the Author

David Hall was born in a small town called Mount Airy (A.K.A Mayberry) nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains which are part of the large Appalachian Mountain…