29 March 2008

Slender beams of moonlight enter this darkened place as I kneel, 
always somber, always silent, frozen here, waiting. 

Haloed forms wrought in panes of glass loom as dust dances in the air, 
forming an image in my mind, sparing not my exposed soul. 

A reflection on a mirror's face. 

I raise my head, now defying this callous light.


Anonymous said...

Well, aren't you Mister Gloomypants?

Anonymous said...

I can write poetry too