The Moon

A distant friend,
who never laughs,
or sheds a tear.
Who never cries,
or truly smiles.
Her's is a lonely life,
but so simple,
without a care.

Midnight Chatter

Are you listening,

in the night,

as I whisper,

secret fears?

This is when,

I should be sleeping.

I can tell,

because I cry,

when I catch you,

closing eyes,

and drifting off,

to that elusive,

land of sleep.

Moon Song

Pale silver moon,

in a purple sky,

like a money plant seed pod,

turned into a spotlight,

on clear rich blue sky.

written 10/22/10

Melancholy New Year

I want this night to be special,
to anticipate the night,
to eagerly await,
the ringing in,
of a brand new year,
and yet,
it doesn't feel right,
with melancholy shadows,
I wait,
for nothing,
what's a new year,
but another day,
another excuse,
to “celebrate,”
when I'm not in the mood,
to throw parties,
when I'd rather just chill,
and chat with some friends.


Prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: In anticipation of the night.

Pajamas

Soft warm flannel,
hugging with warmth,
wrapping close,
the comfort of,
a hundred peaceful,
winter nights,
fabric worn soft,
a simple comfort,
for chilly nights.


Another prompt from Nean: "describe the perfect pair of pajamas."

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."