Bedtime poetry

A thousand pages
made for my pen
and not a word
as I lie gripping
love, longing, lust
midnight passes without
so much as a whisper
I fold the blank lines
back onto themselves

the window a mirror
reflecting my face
I turn off the light
to disappear, to turn on
the night, the stars
small in my tired eyes
burning in their bed
silently birthing
my dreams on the pillow

About these ads

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s