Nothing To See. . .
You dropped a kiss
on the top of my head
as you headed out the door.
I wanted to hold onto
what the night had brought
and the morning promised. . .
Too late, I think,
another chance missed,
to gather to ourselves
what time would bring
in another lifetime with
unwelcome surprises.
And with no knowledge ever
of how it all came to be. . .
How could you not see
what was written indelibly
on the wall of night?
I know, I know.
There was nothing to see. Nothing.
photo by John Holmes
2 responses to “The Wall Of Night. . .”
This is haunting Veronica.
Maira, you understood. Thank you.