shadow

Midnight Tryst

In the winking hour of night, My mind still bumbling with day, I crept softly from my bed, Edging creaks to the kitchen, And on tiptoe, stopped amazed. Through the sink window the moon Had laid on slipping shadows A thistledown of silver, Lifting the routine of chores And accustomed surfaces In a gossamer webbing

For an eyrie spun from light. I entered, a child again, And waited serenity.

of 5 stories this month > Get unlimited stories
You've read 5 of 5 free stories

Only $1 for your first month.

Get unlimited Monitor journalism.