holding out in the sky
longer than they should
against a backdrop of smoke
holding against the sky.
These things are
ethereal made whole
the searing flame of those
very moments we hold most dear
burning their way into the back of our minds.

We watch them as we might any other moment
in awe
allowing the thing to breathe
and become something more
(or less)
than we could have imagined
but always with awe
and always
(if and when we notice)
with just a dash of speculation.


One thought on “Flashes

  1. Hi I enjoyed reading your poem, nice choice of art btw. I’ve followed and ill be sure to check out some of your other posts. I’m a fellow writer myself and would love to get your feedback on some of my posts if you have time. I’m working on a novel currently and I post short stories on my blog. If not, thanks anyway, have fun writing and keep it up 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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