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Dante Pellegrino

Fingers resting on the moon

Hidden beneath soft wooden floor boards
of men and women in relationships spoken for tell they're tales of romance and physical attraction
With they're playing hands, intertwined with fate
reaching far, imaginations run wild
you're secret is my best friend

Enter through a door
past a candle in a
well-lit room
I see into the past,
neglected by my future
by my sad eyes
obscurity comes to life

I lay ye down
my fingers resting upon solid ground
a dimming in a royal Faust of harvests;
Sycamores frantically sway back and fourth in a windless funnel
standing tall, shedding bark
stretched wide

[...] Read more

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