Delicate cornflower moth
lit, unnoticed on matching, faded paint of yonder once-blue shed.
Slow & certain rhythm in your tiny wings, flit.
not unlike auburn runners jogging
in place til the red light turns.
symmetrical black freckles mark your fragile wings
as would the Sigil’s of past Glories orange blaze.
and yet to shallow grey eyes be lost
with all the other brown specks
left behind on the old wall
commemorating golden sunny memories
of taunting ivory ducks
with chocolate mud pies flung
on distant summer rainbow days.
i still am waiting, deep in my lonely blue
for the silver-haired Vulture’s promise
that never came to save me….
and for the Red Crone’s other black shoe to fall.
copyright 2014 by ‘Almost~Alice’
“Today’s challenge, look outside gather nouns,verbs and color and write a poem to it. This is free verse.”