Monday, December 30, 2013

It Is One A.M.



It is one a.m.
Pale moon reclines
A crescent-gem
Pinned to
Navy lapel
Of a minstrel
Unhindered
By hours
Or silver-soft dazzle
Of snow-flake showers
He plays his tune
On a phantom flute
Soloist serenading
Dark wood
Or poet or lover
We wait until
His song is over
Then
All is still
Save for the clock
That cannot choose
But must tick and tock
To mark time’s dues
But for a brief minute
We lie on the hem
Of silver-soft nothing
It is one a.m.

© Janet Martin

I was about to turn off all the lights but stood a moment to admire the night...there is something rare and brooding about one a.m.

...on that note, good-night!
oops, good morning;)

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