Passing Memory in the Night
Wind fleeting rushes with the witch through night
Faces pass softly flashing in the tent
Eager hands clasp a weak unsteady light
Flaring wildly after her your flame leant
She lingers to look into eyes which spark
See your burning flame and hear your true name
She loves how you make shift away the dark
Knows that nothing can ever be the same
Flames lively flare to whisper “I am yours”
Waver “Cannot lose you in blinding day”
Turns halo of ginger and blue colours
And under eyes the hazy shadows sway
Their eyes alight through radiances send
Twinkle that all they wished for was a friend
In ‘Passing Memory in the Night,’ the literary device of imagery allows the reader to perceive the sight of the rushing motion of the witch, “eyes which spark,” the colours of ginger and blue…
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