Vacant Streets for Foolish Dreams

By
After night drifts unconscious,
Before the sun yawns to wake,
Our universe pauses for our touch.
To think is to live…
Take my hand; nothing slips away in a dream.
Soft cheeks of warm sheets,
Oh how I’d slither right in.
To think is to live…
Today the sun may never wake.
Idle times for you and I.
Never mind the bodies passing,
They’re dust in our wind with a quick sigh.
Holding hands with lush silence,
Even winds don’t dare to speak.
That old moon three blocks behind us,
Our new-born sun just up the street.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback