over and out

they filled up city nights,
we saw them tangled up in stars;
the rush that is the poetry
of love amid confusion

and sharper than the lights
that shine along the strip of bars,
the thrill of expectation that’s
a mango sort of fusion

we knew them when they flew their first;
the bubble we all feared would burst –
but floated to a colder clime
and is still floating still —

when first they scaled the heights
we thought them fragile as glass jars —
but yet, over and out they stay,
immune from mere
contusion

Author: Sibelius Russell

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen "Beleaguered" Servant) lives a life of whimsical servitude -- whatever that means.

One thought on “over and out”

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