Traveling Among the Stars

February 13, 2008
It looms. A silent moon.
A valiant freckle on the dark of night.
Covering me,
its spot of light
a beacon
battling against the torrent of night
of sleep.
My eyes never close.
It hangs.
A familiar, old friend.
Why does it hide in mystery?
I see its gaze, and yet
it passes by me
and the morning comes.
No goodbye.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback