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Briefly draws the nightBriefly draws the night . . . and closes healing hands across the brow. Sweet-scented stock, in full perfume, with open arms, greets the moon. Lie . . . and with full, deepened breath kiss the air that wanders through the soul. Draw comfort from the silence sweet and pure . . . Clear sky that rings the heavens, . . . gilded now, in silv'red tapestry. Transform this tortured soul for all to see. For I have walked so very alone, staring at your canvas, and in many conversations spread the hours. In truth, it feels as if your hands drew comfort to my soul Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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