Everybody is busy trying
To shut out the night
Flooding their senses
Images, visages, fighting off demons…
Even of their own making…
Or flying in from the universe
Preying on the innocent…
They know not…
Or do… they?
Flitting about,
Like gold-winged bats.
Noted spiraling down.
Blue sky,  cotton-ball clouds,
Flute, violin,  bass, play them for me now.
Lost in your constant high,
Strum me like a lute.
I respond only to you.
Heavenly tune,
You’re overdue.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s