"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray
"Poetry unites." ~Anon
"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson
Written by Mike D. McCulley
He lives in Montesano,Washington, USA
His blog: Word Anger
It Sleeps Alone
At night the mind sleeps, but sleeps alone.
The feet think hard on the sound of gravel,
walking past blossoms on a frosted path,
a garden gate closing. The heart recalls
bridges breaking apart and falling,
small bridges with elaborate structures.
Raven at the center perches on a cedar stump
and takes in ocean dust. At morning
a tear is on each lash for what they saw
in the night, and the heart sleeps alone.
Originally published on writer's personal blog.
Posted with consent of the writer.
Note: All written material is copyrighted by the individual writer and/or blog author, and may not be used without written consent. Copyright © Breathing Poetry 2009. All Rights Reserved.
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