Thursday, December 15, 2011

Written in Early December.

Hands that pray for warmth
Come together to whisper
A silent wish of her being

The moon becomes the master
And she the willing slave
On nights of his silver glory
She hides in a trembling cave

The ghosts recite their tales
The lovers long to smile
She drowns in the weeping waters 
of an inconsolable Nile.

Ahead she never moves
Before she never loves
Draws the curtains of smiles
And listens to lonely doves

In blue she breathes her days
In grey she sings the nights
Away from herself in truth
Away from laughing lights

  From different worlds she rises
And sinks in the eager sands
All that remains behind
Are her prayers in a pair of hands.

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