Musings by The Poet Loriet
Between
In the quiet calm
of a misty morning,
the dew sparkles
on the grass blades.
Wind whistles outside
my windows, and
the clickety-clack roaring
of a night train
pierces the silence
with a comforting monotone.
The overhead lamplight
shines softly steady,
bathing me in a hushed glow
as I lie enveloped
in toasty covers and lazy thoughts.
Caught somewhere in the void
between dreams and reality,
my mind turns to you.
I want to linger
here with these images
until the sunlight
reaches her warm fingers
through night's shadows,
gently guiding me
into a new day.
Lori Beal
of a misty morning,
the dew sparkles
on the grass blades.
Wind whistles outside
my windows, and
the clickety-clack roaring
of a night train
pierces the silence
with a comforting monotone.
The overhead lamplight
shines softly steady,
bathing me in a hushed glow
as I lie enveloped
in toasty covers and lazy thoughts.
Caught somewhere in the void
between dreams and reality,
my mind turns to you.
I want to linger
here with these images
until the sunlight
reaches her warm fingers
through night's shadows,
gently guiding me
into a new day.
Lori Beal
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Between
Between
