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Yellow
by Richard VinceTonight is quiet
All I can hear is myself
The sound of my body, alive
But where is my mind?
I mislay important things
They become submerged
Under a growing pile of half truths
And are obscured from my view
And protected from my questing fingers
My consciousness seemed to fall asleep
And this urban darkness is illuminated
With a dull, wizened yellow
Old light is better than no light at all
09/13/2000 Posted on 04/28/2006
Copyright © 2025 Richard Vince
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 05/02/06 at 05:02 PM lovely...faintly reminiscient of "The Yellow Wallpaper"...nice introspection, esp. loved:"Under a growing pile of half truths" AND "this urban darkness is illuminated/ With a dull, wizened yellow"...thanks, peace, *jewels* |
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