Treasure Island

F W Finney


And If


And if he were sitting here
on this sinking summer evening-

he might set down
his spy novel
and call the children
to the porch
to watch the yellow-red sunset
over the pond.

And later, in the darkness
No doubt he'd fill his pipe

and with the sudden scratch
of a wooden match
send streaks of light flickering
- as they flicker now-
against the black wall of trees

while his smoke-trails
sailed over the
black lapping water.

Submitted: Thursday, May 23, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, February 11, 2014

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

This poem was first published in Potpourri: A Magazine of the Literary Arts, Vol.8, No.3, p.60) in 1996. Kansas City, Missouri, USA.
(ISSN 1076-6413) .

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