P For You L
I write for loves sake and not for that of eternal peace
I write for our sake and not for that of internal peace
For you are my city, commuted to once in a full moon
Always returning and trying not to leave
The city glows in the night with sombre lights, sober lights,
The opalescence of the bulbs is translucent against the sky
But wait, these are not bulbs?
This city shines aloud but not with electric bulbs of light bursting there energy into The nights sky, wasting the presence on the no-ones and the suits below
No no no,
This cities lights are that of stars, powered by the seemingly infinite power of nature.
The rooms of the high towers whose heads scrape the purple heavens are doused in the suns hanging from their ceilings
The lamps of the streets are mildly burning away with the ease of small moons.
The constant glow from the bars below are shining from the lunar explosions
(Nebula's all together for a grand spectacle of a constant trickle from a stream to the lake, from the vessel to the heart, from the river to the ocean, from the haze to the light)
A city of lights? Yes. A city of stars? Thousands? Millions? Of course yes it now no longer seems absurd! A city made of stars.
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Comments about this poem (P For You L by April Abigail )
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