String Lights Joey Davide
The orbs from the strings glow a faint yellow, Hung from the terrace beyond the door. They shine through a layer of white Covering all surfaces within reach, But unable to contain their incandescent shimmer. I yearn to feel their radiance with my own fingers, For them to provide me with warmth In this falling gray-sea of cold, Finding its way underneath the glass And to me. The exit remains shut, however, And despite my best efforts, I remain in the dark, Trapped and shivering. The lights remain tantalizingly out of reach.
Stars Below | Paula Aruajo Parra | Photography
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