The light of the moon angles my face and I felt she was laughing. Not a laugh of mockery but a glee that her reflection shines so good at me.
What is these phases Mother Moon that bisects me in hard triangles?
The clock chimes and I am still here with memoirs over my lids. I blink and undress each passing thought. Then some voice whispers, coming from books still unread, my dripping pen and the cheap paper. Yawn.
I count back and forth as the time counts me too. No ends and telling me for the Sunday to wait as batteries are drained.
Don’t stare at me, fill the gaps of darkness. You will find me here at night again as I climb back to your delicious lap. Yes, I assume the ladder will always be there.
If not, you know I love the free fall.
What is these phases Mother Moon that bisects me in hard triangles?
The clock chimes and I am still here with memoirs over my lids. I blink and undress each passing thought. Then some voice whispers, coming from books still unread, my dripping pen and the cheap paper. Yawn.
I count back and forth as the time counts me too. No ends and telling me for the Sunday to wait as batteries are drained.
Don’t stare at me, fill the gaps of darkness. You will find me here at night again as I climb back to your delicious lap. Yes, I assume the ladder will always be there.
If not, you know I love the free fall.
©2008 v.j.m.a.
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