In the darkness
a stealthy mouse creeps across the creaking floor,
softly squeaking to the sagging boards
that rot and fall.
In the darkness by the window
a lonely figure sits,
silent and full of dreams.
He looks with eyes hungrier than tombs
upon the passing strangers,
passing in the darkness,
young and full of dreams.
Boards rot and fall.
A mouse feeds and squeaks his joy.
An old man slumps
upon an ancient, broken chair
and sleeps.
“This Fleeting Life” was printed in Hawthorne Road, No. 2 of Inwood Indiana. Pick up the paperback from Prolific Press; the stories and poems published online are free to read here.
Get the paperback
