Before you came,
the lighthouse.
Aging, silently,
saw it blink
as if it knew me,
was stalking me,
a tiny inflamed eye.
Reds popped as corks,
smudge of blood
on a north-eastern
summer sky.
And then,
in a second
as quick as a pulse
on a wrist,
a flick to white,
a shard of champagne
light latched
upon my attention.
Back to red.
And back again.
Two colours breathing in,
blowing out,
calling you.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 4:39 PM UTC
Before you came,
the lighthouse.
Aging, silently,
saw it blink
as if it knew me,
was stalking me,
a tiny inflamed eye.
Reds popped as corks,
smudge of blood
on a north-eastern
summer sky.
And then,
in a second
as quick as a pulse
on a wrist,
a flick to white,
a shard of champagne
light latched
upon my attention.
Back to red.
And back again.
Two colours breathing in,
blowing out,
calling you.
Written: July 2014.
Explanation: A poem in my own time inspired by a real lighthouse, but about a fictional one. Another in the ongoing beach/sea dream couple series - the previous poem in this series was 'End.' This piece is not quite as strong as I would've liked, so edits possible in the near future. All feedback on the series is welcome.
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