Wet City Night – a poem by A. S. J. Tessimond

Light drunkenly reels into shadow;
Blurs, slurs uneasily;
Slides off the eyeballs:
The segments shatter.

Tree-branches cut arc-light in ragged
Fluttering wet strips.
The cup of the sky-sign is filled too full;
It slushes wine over.

The street-lamps dance a tarentella
And zigzag down the street:
They lift and fly away
In a wind of lights.

A. S. J. Tessimond

Best wishes

Lis Goodwin, your voice coach

http://www.gloriousvoicecoaching.com

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