eternity’s ruse
you couldn’t call it insomnia
exactly
this lying here staring at the moon
but you would never call it sleeping
either
even when i lie
still so still so perfectly still
she weaves her way
through branch and blind
writing long letters on misty pane
inscribing
sentimental signals meant for
no one and everyone
in some long forgotten language
always cryptic and teasing,
mocking and daring
until i take the bait and rise
to plant warm feet on cold hard floor
and finally look her in the eye
all proud and angry and defiant
to discover nothing more
than my own moon face
round and white and staring back at me
in a flawless transparent reflection
i almost never
recognize
::
::
::
April 6th, 2012 at 9:09 am
Didn’t see until you said it; there is so much we do not notice.
April 6th, 2012 at 9:23 am
brilliant, mrs. m.!!! vicki 🙂
April 6th, 2012 at 9:24 am
Sometimes it’s strange how you are able to give voice to my very own experiences. Many days you feel like a kindred soul.
April 6th, 2012 at 9:41 am
sometimes we don’t want to see what’s there and then when we do, it’s almost miraculous – in a way. another startlingly beautiful poem, Kelly!
April 6th, 2012 at 7:01 pm
You make your talent seem so effortless ~ perfect photo, as well.
April 6th, 2012 at 9:36 pm
i read this this morning, but decided to wait for tonight to reread it, the moon all outside and all. this is one of my favorites of yours, and i have many, but this mood is a mood i know, and the moon is a moon i know, and this speaks to me in that language you mention. xoxo
April 6th, 2012 at 10:48 pm
Reads like a dream, a work of art!
April 9th, 2012 at 10:39 pm
every time I read your words I feel like I am traveling towards places unknown but that my heart recognizes