by Allan W. Traphagan
Traffic lights, blink shamrock green, flashing
over sparkling winged things,
whom wear moonbeams
wreathed about shining red hair,
tripping over wild purple crocus ,past
secret pots of gold hidden in hollows of
great mossy boulevarde oaks
where spectors of black Cadallacs sit.
They rustle in forest odors
of wet cinnamon bark and dew-
laden blue bells where it's
so quiet that one can hear even
the sewers breathe.
So sadly, they drive the fear away, nervously
humming silver toned songs and
slip away into the indigo stars
of the monochrome city
as darkness egulfs red tail lights
disappearing down the shadowey
street ,twinkling like ruby sapphires.
city, where darkness engulfs red
taillights...that twinkle like ruby