"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.


  1. WHY? said...
    Yes, in the end, we are all alone.
    Beautifully done!
    gameover709 said...
    this is beautiful. I could see it all..jorc

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