Challenge
Write a poem or a piece of short prose using the words steel, steam, and stars.
Tipsy at Midnight
How we muddle through
listless as the stars,
who shine out of obligation
with no purpose, no meaning.
Underneath the answers
I found only more questions.
Staring at a sky that gleamed
as stale as steel, or maybe,
that was just the mood,
a taste that lingered.
Heavy thoughts poured over,
as I pushed my way home
passing over steam grates,
taking notice of each fallen brick
the laziness of city streets
on quiet, nothing, nights like these.
Taliesin
Interesting, I never specifically thought of stars that way. They must because the way fusion works (obligation). Without purpose or meaning. Enjoyed this one.