Ken's Poetry

Forgotten Friends

Wisps of light
deep in marsh mist.
Sometimes a flame
flickering from the past
soft as white flesh
illuminates the mind.
Milky profusion
glimmering in the dark
behind cloud cover
of fading memories
with thunder’s soft voice
rumbling incomprehensively.
Faces form like holograms
in the breath,
unwind from
silk-scarf mist,
hang
like worn out toys
around the bed.