I walked the lonely streets at night,
They seemed so different in the lost light.
The shadows quivered, making dim shapes grow.
Shifting moonlight, revealing slivers of what I know,
Beauty, darkness, and the words I made;
Empty winds, when the last song has played.
Over my head, the stars sang softly to themselves,
And no one noticed.
I walked distant, leafy trails one afternoon,
Knowing autumn's glories would wither soon.
Forest creatures rustled underneath every tree,
Wind in the upper branches whispered quietly to me,
Of passing years, unshed tears, words I still measure out;
Shifting dreams, jewels uncovered amidst ashes of doubt.
Behind me, a distant owl wondered what disturbed his sleep,
Still, no one noticed.
by the Wandering Author
© 1980, 2007 by the author. All Rights Reserved.