Poetic Interlude XVI

In the esoteric morning

When the sun has crawled my way

And I’ve woken far too early

With a rising urge to pray -

With the rigid miles between us

That will shortly bring you night,

As I listen to the birdsong

With its need to fuck or fight -

And the Moon, she still is waiting,

So I trust you to her care:

Though you’re a hemisphere away

Your lips taste of despair.

Yes, I know that it’s your evening

As I watch the Sun arise,

Tonight, perhaps, you’ll dream of me

And hold me, while I cry.

Tagged: Poetic Interludes, Poetry, Writing