Distance.

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Distance - Tessa Cillian Lyne 2017

Submitted: March 03, 2017

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Content

Submitted: March 03, 2017

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DISTANCE.

A dome is placed above our heads,
Coloured blue.
The paint drips on occasion
In thunderous roars,
And we are watched by white sheep,
A coliseum.
They move in matching times,
Ever vigilant, ever changing,
And on a day where no wind has come,
We move under them
And under still,
Some benign pressure,
A feeling,
Soaked in intense hope.

And as the bulb is turned off
As in some quant kitchen,
Or decrepit warehouse,
The real show begins.
A billion brilliant eyes watch over us,
Green paint glistens across the sky,
But drys and fades to shades of black,
A white stripe consisting of paint drops,
Sears the sky like a brand,
And here, beyond this dome,
The ever blackness beckons,
The silent moon watches,
Again,
And forever,
Again.


© Copyright 2017 Tessa Cillian Lyne. All rights reserved.