The object was a chain, that wrapped around a wreath.
The Chain was a chord, with lights along its base.
Across the ring, the diverse lights were scattered,
Until a single one, had brightened its glow.
The bright-red light that trailed the leaves;
The lights of the chord taking its shade.
It spread through the loops of the wreath;
And the colourful Christmas turned to red.
It was all I could see, my pupils absorbed.
They dilated red, now trapped beneath the light.
A glorious sighting with expected deception.
I fell for the look, until it was no more.
It was gone by the sixth, the lights going dark,
The colours now dormant, unable to rekindle.
The months shall pass, they remain unbothered;
With hope for next Christmas, to shine upon the wreath.
YOU ARE READING
Dimmed
PoetryBroken by life's struggles, by love, but yearn to have it back? Blaze through the likely feeling of your emotions with these pieces which tell stories; The kind to make you feel like the spark you had around your dreams or ex-lover exists, but as fa...
