The chimes are silent,
Beams break and spark
across abalone and glass.
Somewhere the sea strews bits
like these up on the shore,
whispers, hums a moving tune.
Here, there is no song.
There is no wind.
Happy hour has come and gone.
We are entombed in our own truths.
Before birds’ whistles burst again
across the dawn and this perfect silence
is broken, turn your face to the moon
and pillow your head
with dreams.
Good one !! Slumber takes over 👍
Dream time! : )
Many thanks!!
A quiet peaceful time, with the busy-ness of the day laid aside, a time to rest – and compose poetry.
Ah, that sounds dreamy to me!!
Thanks, Michael.
You are amazing.
Cindy,
You are so appreciated, for your kindness in your support of my work,
and for the genius of your own work– showcased at https://cindyknoke.com/.
Many thanks to you!