Fin: #Inktober Day 31

A frail ghost yawns 

in the dusty shade of a shadow 

as a curtain of cub webs is drawn.

Armies of light

slow match to the hallow ticks 

of ever dying time 

ferrying the gift of life

to a decaying vessel.

Life wrestles death

as the day wrestles the night

at sunrise,

birthing a swirl of gold dust 

that put a smile in the sky. 

Thank you so much for following the series. I put the last few prompts together to produce this piece. As I said in the beginning, all the poems were produced as first drafts, written at once with no editing. I’ll take them down soon. – Hakeem Adam. 

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