Under the lamplight, there stands a figure,
Under the street, there walks a mouse,
Under the sky, there sleeps a river,

Great echoes off light streak across the endless black blanket,
Reflecting off the tranquil sene,
Shadows creep along the winding roads,
Yet they stop in disbelief,

Looming above the vast blue surface,
Definitely marches The Moon,
It extends it’s gentle gentle hand,
Caressing the nights inhabitants,

Over the horizon,
Waits patiently a giant,
His rays lick the corners of a new begging,
His smile laminates life,
His hands guide our every move,

2 thoughts on “Night

  1. I like the personification of the moon, the image of it caressing the inhabitants of the night…

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