The town sinks in the moonlight gloom
a shadow looms
over the walls
and moves
sideways to hide from the eye of the curious moon.
Overhead, the sky,
is marking the limits of infinity
caught by the wall and the shadow.
The light coming from the innkeeper's door
is the only light to compete the moon.
A sleepy town, and the doused fire,
and the reign of winter will silence the town.
Towns have memories of winter nights.
The cracks on the ceramic glass, and the cracks that let the wind in,
The time when the shiver runs down the spine,
and the distances widen and lead one to roam,
in search of the light of the inn.
Inns awake when the homes sleep.
a shadow looms
over the walls
and moves
sideways to hide from the eye of the curious moon.
Overhead, the sky,
is marking the limits of infinity
caught by the wall and the shadow.
The light coming from the innkeeper's door
is the only light to compete the moon.
A sleepy town, and the doused fire,
and the reign of winter will silence the town.
Towns have memories of winter nights.
The cracks on the ceramic glass, and the cracks that let the wind in,
The time when the shiver runs down the spine,
and the distances widen and lead one to roam,
in search of the light of the inn.
Inns awake when the homes sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment