Z
zay
Guest
a girl walked up to me
holding a bible unexplainably
she captivated my senses.
maybe it wasn’t the book alone,
her glance seemed to unlock
a door that was already
creaking,
her voice reminded me
of candle light that drips
for anyone to touch, a sound that left
anyone in its path captive- a presence
like the aroma of wilted, yet potent
potpourri that slowly falls from a jar.
her little light flickers
in my abandoned room, left
by its keeper years ago- only accompanied
by the moon’s silhouette that trespasses
past my eyelids. the blinds of the window
slowly revel in a spider’s web,
held in silence by the glow
that now speaks to me
on the street walking by
the church, her sweet
testimony warms me,
inspires me to
come back home.
holding a bible unexplainably
she captivated my senses.
maybe it wasn’t the book alone,
her glance seemed to unlock
a door that was already
creaking,
her voice reminded me
of candle light that drips
for anyone to touch, a sound that left
anyone in its path captive- a presence
like the aroma of wilted, yet potent
potpourri that slowly falls from a jar.
her little light flickers
in my abandoned room, left
by its keeper years ago- only accompanied
by the moon’s silhouette that trespasses
past my eyelids. the blinds of the window
slowly revel in a spider’s web,
held in silence by the glow
that now speaks to me
on the street walking by
the church, her sweet
testimony warms me,
inspires me to
come back home.