Friday, April 8, 2016

After Dark...





The mind is a drifter after dark
It strides the rift twixt Will and Was
And roams through eons without pause
Where star-song strews yon raven arc

The mind is a merchant after dark
It sorts and weighs the prose and pawns
Of letting goes and holding ons
It scales the heights of night, soul-stark

The mind is a hunter after dark
 Stealthy and suave, it targets hearts
Its quiver filled with acute darts
This archer does not miss its mark

…over the hill, the street and park
The noiseless ink of midnight spills
Into the willingness of quills
The mind is a poet after dark

© Janet Martin

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