"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.

2 Comments:

  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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