Some illuminated evening
when the lights are all aglow
we will sit and sip the fragrance
of each other’s company
and these,
the warm lit faces,
that we know.
Some illuminated evening
when the lights are all aglow
we will sit and sip the fragrance
of each other’s company
and these,
the warm lit faces,
that we know.
The boatman’s black hair
has grown long
And his beard a peppered grey
His body has grown thin and older
But he still plays
His oar turned mandolin
and keeps his many golden secrets
as he sits and moves across the
shore.
The night drifts by
Seconds heavy with subterfuge,
but the night sky is clear
And the lights are bright,
more foot-candle strong
than before,
aging, revealing
all around them.
Only a silence
Remains to be broken
with the innocent laughter
of a child,
as I continue
travel through the misted
landscapes of the mind.
The waters
deep
in summer
whisper.
Murmured
breezes
And crickets follow
in a blue rippling
as dark clouds
edge red
In desperate
sun fall.