Ending With San Francisco's Visitor

Is it a bad idea to cry?

To cry at the sign of light's fleeting moments?

They end as soon as you wipe them away,

fogginess spilling in a soliciting manner over

To solitude's arena.

The matches that burn,

Play,

Spark 

There ending with a quick

WHOOSH

 

N

Nola_hall

WA

13 years old

More by Nola_hall

See all

  • Poetry

    By Nola_hall

    The Perfect Group Chat

    The four gas stations on each of the corners

    Hover over the town,

    But they don’t define it.

    It doesn’t define us,

    Neither does the churches

    With clipped voices and narrowed eyes.

    Read More

  • Poetry

    By Nola_hall

    Four Year's End

    Four more months till the lines of work-

    The coding of my life in word form-

    Molds into a steel cage.

    The cage's walls lined with a maze of puzzles,

    Answers tucked between my ears.

    Read More