Dark

Dark is the color of waiting
Thrown in the shadow of a dying memory;
Which is beyond the nursing of games and stories,
Of names which would have lifted the tears from your eyes.
Fire is better a choice than quitting;
To burn, to hope the ashes will set free
Your cold replies of Nothing, Maybe
And more than once you have said I'm not yet hungry.
Fire will not quit and not without a fight.
This child is longing to play with you in the garden
Filled with frolicking dreams, floating balloons, and fabulous wings;
How we wish to fold at last the wheeling chair of the ennui, but still -
The dying birthday candlelight is blown one more time for
Dark is the color of waiting.

by Manuel Abis

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