deepundergroundpoetry.com

Solitary Night

From room to room I wander,        
of how the walls climb,        
My heart wakes to rhythm,        
a head furling of rime      
        
Tis late and it’s frigid        
in the land of the solitary night,      
Where tomorrow sleeps wonders,        
in slight lullaby        
          
My little lambs are sheeting,        
neatly in fold,        
Corners with creasing,        
where nearby a lamp glows,        
        
And a Westminster omnipresent        
tocks royal the time,        
Challenging each passing hour,        
like a guard keeping eye,        
        
As the Lexington Minuteman        
is keeping imminent stride,        
And how long till the light,        
until it goes back by,
 
Watching the light pass,        
how long was I blind?         
And oh how long        
until forever gone...      
        
Wake me in the trying times,        
and please love me long,        
The heart produces the rhythm,        
and the rhythm's the song.
Written by Pishashee
Published | Edited 3rd Jun 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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