The night is dark,

Venomous, with serpentine

Streaks of lightning,

Cutting through my pane.

My radio sings to me

Of mornings spent

In the mountains.

 

It’s lonely here:

A lone plate of warmed porridge

With some crackers

Awaits me. Last Christmas

We’d danced together

And sipped wine. You

Looked beautiful.

 

Voices have faded away:

My feelings still speak

And weave their way

Into pages that have yellowed

With time. The darkness

And the light dance

Through corridors of time.

 

The saga plays on,

Shadows slipping in and out

In repetitive dual patterns:

The light and the dark,

Empty rooms and crowded hallways,

The eternal and the ephem

eral –

The twain shall meet.

 

 

Image : Greg Becker ( Unsplash )