Quietly falls the night somewhere
Somewhere a morning loses its way
As footsteps grow distant slowly
And shadows leave for corners moons away
The wishing well has regurgitated its pennies
The mirror stands tall with a gash
The wishing bone has remained unbroken
The clover grows four leaves no more
The hearth is cold with the fire gone
The creaking door, stilled with silence
While sand has lain with the footmarks
And on the clock its witching hour forevermore
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3 comments:
Beautiful and Evocative!
Thank you Jigar :-)
Strumming on all the seven strings ! Tears roll down absentminded !
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