The deepest heart to wonder why.
Am I falling apart, scattered around this room?
I find one too soon night is anything,
and will survive's the spirit.
Fly with found energy,
keep it within delight
as garden whispered lonesome,
too afraid of dark sinking covers.
Sleep to the spinning peculiar.
I find the kind and civilized don't descend;
the dark moon shining fortune
and the man is sweet, sweet love.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 459
Man in the Moon
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Drop a line, a quip, a snippet, your pants, or an anecdote...just don't drop the soap.