Poetry For Everyday People
Night Lights, Candle Lights, Whispers I Remember
I'm kissing chances,
feeding angels,
finding a place,
for us,
there must be
a greater reason
for pillows,
or grass
kissing soles,
the pure need,
at that, inevitable point,
when we just reach that place,
and we look up, as if we can
tear the sky and look within,
for something higher, for magic
between clouds and blue,
when you're alone
and still a dreamer:
you always hear something
softly
say
goodnight.
feeding angels,
finding a place,
for us,
there must be
a greater reason
for pillows,
or grass
kissing soles,
the pure need,
at that, inevitable point,
when we just reach that place,
and we look up, as if we can
tear the sky and look within,
for something higher, for magic
between clouds and blue,
when you're alone
and still a dreamer:
you always hear something
softly
say
goodnight.
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Night Lights, Candle Lights, Whispers I Remember
Night Lights, Candle Lights, Whispers I Remember
