Some necessarily choose
a darker sky and shoot up
to shine and twinkle
for the star catchers
to be beyond me-
I let them go with a sigh-
a few stay to let me collect
molten words of their hearth-
I feel their street urchin breath-
hear their buzz for a new bloom-
see their muddy feet-
on the other side of rhythm-
I make my home corner
with their stale wrath of desperation
Posted for Micropoetry Month: Nov 2017 # 21 hosted by Thotpurge
&
Shared with Poetry Pantry #388 @ Poets United
sumanar/lekha 