We look out
the window
Out, away from our shining light
Out, into
the pining night
that draws
uneven breath
The night is
pitch, utter,
complete in
its darkness
that hurries
away when
stray light
flickers on, and then
burns a soft
scar
of ash, as a
star
does when it
streaks
across an
empty sky.
Silence: she
links arms,
with the
night. Wily,
Their charms,
slyly,
They steal
past us-the bright and happy.
Who sit, in
rising smoke
and laugh in
the noise
that cascades
around
the room.
The music, the sound
Tremble when
the thought
of night
crawls out, and is caught
in the
minds, and eyes of those
once laughing,
once talking.
For who, I
wonder, staring
at the
black, darkening eyes,
Can flee the dizzying cries
Of a
beckoning night.
So we huddle
together,
to find an
endless light
in some
warmth that glows
as tears spill, and wine flows