six hands shake the room with dark drapes
where cat eyes glare green through the split shades
where the ice melts so slowly
when the moon submits it's reflection
in the gleaming dark iron phantoms
of a frozen firescape in December
where every breath of starlight
tucks us in
under a comforting canopy of midnight blue
where no north winds nuzzle up to you
there on the porch as you look out
with eyes ever searching
in the room where you made all these perfect
paper angels
No comments:
Post a Comment