Silken hair On whispering skin Tell me your pretty lies And I’ll hold them close
Golden soul Wretched heart Pay me in diamonds And your secrets are safe with me
By the Porchlight
As I stand upon my stoop, the porch light washing out all the colors, I look up at the speckled night sky and see lights dash by, their tails bright and quick.
As I stand upon my stoop under the pink blossom tree, the indigo sky swirls like Van Gogh back from the dead, and the wind whispers through the rosemary as I shiver.
As I stand upon my stoop, my heart leaps when I see it; that gentle horizon, and how easy it would be to hop the fence and run away.
Midnight Musings
There is a gentleness to 12 a.m. A stillness I admire; the house settles and the floorboards creak as I pad softly into the kitchen. The clouds are a ruddy gray and they reflect the lights below them like water. There is a gentleness to midnight wanderings, and how the glaring lucidity of daylight melds into a dreamworld. In the soft, pale light of the moon the silhouette of the old oak tree in front of my back window looks like a painting. Romantic and faded, genuine and somber.