Charades
It was my impression, the hours were bending
after infinite years of waiting and mind stalling,
the ship of our escaping, his deft sailors calling,
the time was hardening and never-ending.
Upon the ship were only shadows of souls,
and as the dusk, slowly, befell to night,
it was the three of us in tulips of smoked light,
and only sailor ghosts in charades sprawl.
They danced and danced the nights after,
mimicking umpteen concepts, as each word,
was one more riddle upon our mind board,
- with ghosts jumping with their crazy laughter.
we danced with them, under the rain;
foolish marionettes of a black ship hustle;
rotated, around a conceived infinite axle;
the dark ship wanted us to wind and feign.
Across the shore, were scattered lights,
blinking like to expending, desolated flames,
with this dance eluding us to childish games,
and the windy memories of our Sunday kites.
We fled up to reach happiness where,
the stars were smiling to a careless void,
and none recalled his one life destroyed,
and none recalled our ship dance of ne'er.
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