Inlaid velvet indigo, over-arching
each breath becoming mist upon the drift
of heaven's breeze. Warmth is comforting,
and yet the chill awaits, refreshingly surreal.
It dreams itself back to a feel of innocence
again. Spirits come to meet more easily
within the crispness of the winter air.
Heavenly, the starshine seems much
brighter than in steamy summer nights.
More oft' than not, the others
dare approach the cold, as we, are looking
for companionship. A touch of friendship
brightening the many lights that night
brings out, so many of fluorescent
understanding. The holidays are
coming. And this year, e'en more than
most, the loneliness so many feel is
found evolving into something more
than it is has ever been before.
The feel of too much loss
without a gain;
Even winter wonderlands are dulled this
time around. (Hush now, darlin', can you
hear that whispered sound...? It has a tone
quite different from the winds that blow
this night. Coming ever closer, as the
dark of moon becomes significant, and the
blood within your veins cries out to flow
somehow, more fervently than usual).
Black magic turning white
within the night;
enchantment beckoning the soul to reach
with all its might for love again, at a point
so constant, death itself can't enter in.
Defying reasoned possibility, it permeates
the atmosphere we breathe. Here, every
argument is bent into a mutuality of
understanding. Thus the greater healing
comes to bear upon our lives within
Within the inlaid velvet indigo,
everything, as every breath becomes a mist
upon the drift of heaven's earthly breeze - in
cycles that repeat themselves into eternity...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...