I haven’t actually written poetry in decades, but for whatever reason, tonight, I felt this. It popped into my head and I simply typed it out.
At night, alone, the quite hum,
Computers and all things left undone,
A spark, a life, a light gone from.
No TV on,
No bottles clank,
Just memories from all you drank.
Quirky stories,
Outlandish garb,
The crooked tree out in the yard.
Strange noises in the night,
The cats alert,
There is no fright.
At night, alone, between the worlds,
What dreams may come,
It is the sum.
Important moments,
Lost to time,
Settling for less than prime.
Choices made,
No turning back,
For that you always had a knack.
Numbers mixed up, in the stars,
Complex fate,
The last checkmate.
At night, alone, I place a call,
The pendulum swings,
There’s so many things.
When the minutes drag,
A nod to days gone by,
Happier times and a heavy sigh.
If we only knew, if only,
Your soul set free,
On time for you, too early for me.
A giggle lost in time,
Silent wings, forever with me,
Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be.
