The Poetry Corner

Candlelight In Black

By Paul Cameron Brown

The ghosts are marmalade thin as rinds across toast or the Weeping Willow, whose green beard leans, crane-like, into a child's backyard. A Morning Cloak butterfly, maroon wet with the paint of morning, cat paws thin filament leaves astride a larder of memories. Dalliance with the past, smoke grey these architects of memory the privet hedge, lone pine tree, jet black caterpillar poised about a green carrot top trigger laced in emperor's gold like fathoms of the sea held ... in quiet repose.