A Sunflower Came Screaming.
| A DARK ALLEY
In my dark alley is
the sound of the locust singing,
as the lightening bug lightens
the nights vail with the common thread
of the innocent wonder;
a light in the sound that touches down
upon all that awe.
With the smell of the Tiger Lily,
and the Lilac Bush.
When the scuff from a soiled shoe
taps its toe from the blue of
a summers moon to leave my hearts beat
upon the gravel. Where as, when the soldiers died
before me, ‘a caterpillar’ along a climbing vine
took a leap into a butterfly.
And, the only tree which I could call, ‘mine growing’,
in the back-yard of a neighbor,
began to spin its cocoon with the silk
of the noon-day shade.
And, took a solemn vow to sleep until
a wing could fly.
Where, never there is the scare
from the fear of the unknown.
My friend. Now, in my ear
has never been heard a friend,
along, in the dark alone.
in every shadow of my dark alley,
is found another friend,
willing to do another
Well, you don’t tease a drunk
in a dark alley.
Kenneth M. Loschen