April has unravelled
like a favourite old cardigan.
The sound of distant
traffic died weeks ago,
and the empty town
has lost its orange glow.
We can see all the stars now,
scattered like salt across the night sky.
When did we take our eyes off heaven?
Is this white noise a wish come true?
Kim M. Russell, 20th April 2020
On Wednesday, 20th April 2016, Magaly treated us to a quote from Terry Pratchett, some wise words from her grandmother about wishes, and then she wished for poetry that explores both.
Out task is to write a new poem that illustrates what might happen when a good wish renders a not so good outcome.
I’m merging this prompt with Kerry’s Skylover Wordlist, sourced from Dylan Thomas’s poetry collection Deaths and Entrances, from which the twentieth word is ‘salt’.