Blogging Poetry

Acetate Burns

Celluloid melts, my friend.

Memory brings

Acetate films,

Sepia strings.

Weave. Threaded though

The old stories…

Flickers of You.

By candle light,

The shoebox full,

Thought fleeting. Flight,

Flee far away,

Now run along

…another day.

Acetate burns.

Celluloid melts.

For You, I yearn.

© 2017, CGT.

About Obol

Obol is a poet and an infrequent writer of prose.

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