Primordial Prisms
by Frank Watson
I open a bottle,
close my eyes,
and savor the scent.

Tapping the roots
of Middle Earth,
we listen.

Dead so long
that no one knows
who wrote the lost song.

Life is a cabaret
that dances in strange
burlesque.



Note: Written for the Haiku Heights 7/14/12 prompt, "FIRST." 

All writings and translations are Copyright © by Frank Watson, also writing as "Blue Flute" (2011-2014).
Year: 
2012