A Random Light

My writing for yesterday's prompt came late and is too personal to share, but for any one interested the prompt was: These are the delicacies of a ruined evening.

Today's prompt from A Writer's Book of Days is: A random light.

And that brings you a poem. I don't know what it means. It just kind of fell out of my head, so here you go:

A random light,
a star in the night,
a drop of sun,
upon a stone,
that hidden bit,
of light inside,
the special glow,
of newborn smile.

The Night Won't Save You

Crisp air blows,
stirring the darkness,
bright moon glows,
a beckoning call,
crickets chirp,
their incessant song,
promising not,
to leave you alone,
if only you'll follow,
into the night,
escape from the light,
but the night won't save you,
illusion of company,
in a lonely world,
promising safety,
but offering only,
a melancholy home,
for a broken heart,
the night won't save anyone.


Writing prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: "The night won't save anyone."

Beginning to Glow

I've hidden in myself,
long enough I know,
clinging to my worries,
to save myself from me.

It isn't easy,
letting go,
but you take my hand.

Uncertain of my beauty,
I say I'm fairly plain,
just a simple woman,
inside and out,
nothing special really.

I wouldn't say I'm ugly,
but only others say,
I'm beautiful.

Shhing all my protests,
you say there's light inside,
my eyes are blinded to it,
but you say it's there,
and if I try to grow it,
I'll surely glow with it.

Pretending I can see it,
I try to be that light,
no one else can know,
but I'm starting to believe it,
that light is really there.

With every mention of a light,
I think of that,
deep hidden glow,
and every time I picture it,
it shines a little brighter.

Then some else confirms,
"You have a glow about you."