Night In January

.
.
My home is a house
Amongst forest trees.
This night the trees
Are silent.
They do not creak,
Nor sigh.
The owls are quiet.
The horse is quiet.
The Guineas are
Not complaining.
No one speaks.
I hear the stars singing
Of their eternal journeys.
The brightening moon
Illuminates clouds,
Sand and water
In silvery blues.
The trees cast
Golden shadows.
All else is mystery.
Behind my eyes
Is night.
I whisper of
What I feel.
Your voice answers
Telling me of
Your wants that
Are needs.
Behind my eyes
Is night.
Behind my eyes
Sleeps black darkness.
Golden shadows
Outline my
Cold blue hands.
The trees
Remain silent.
.
.
Bear … 01.19.2016
ⓒBearspawprint2016

 

 

 

 

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