She stares at the sky,
Where the dark light grows,
She breathes in the stars,
Where the coming mornings line up in rows.
She tells secrets to the moth eaten clouds
And they carry her guilt,
She listens to unspoken words of the tired city lights,
And watches the world tilt.
She blows the cobwebs off of the constellations,
And the spiders find refuge in the silhouetted trees,
She dusts the persistent rust
Off of the gentle midnight breeze.
She waters the monochrome ferns that grow upon the moon,
Watching as the light finds the dark, mossy places,
She pulls the colored weeds from the greedy soil,
Listening as the sound of silence creeps
Into the limited deserving spaces.
Categories:
Color Has No Place in the Night
More to Discover
