PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

It was a night much like tonight.  The long hand on the dusty grandfather clock struck the ten of P.M.; The moon full, and bright cast lopng tapering shadows on to the yellow painted porch.  The shadow of a street sign merged with a centurian oak, its limbs stretched to embrace the starry sky.  A man sat on a white plastic chair.  He took a deep breath of the cool mossy air. He watched the shadows move, and change. Like a lithograph of nature; Black, grey, and every other color dimly cast in between.  As he sat in the open yellow brick stoop;

I think he thought he had it all.  As long as he could sit in his plastic arm chair, one deep breath away from Heaven st. ;  He knew this place and these things very well, the sign post of Heaven St.; The ancient oak his companion. The old street orange, red, and brown cobblestone masoned in clean long rows.  Bright green grass sprouted between the cracks that were signs of time's unrelenting assualt on all things man made.  I think it was a night much like tonight, when that man sat in his plastic armchair. silent like the massive oak, watching the night, like a guardian on his stoop.  Just another shadow; Companion of the night