And when I can't think straight
And the day is growing late
I can't take a chance
I just let it go and dance!

And when the heart grows cold
Ah the dreams of old
All the hopes and aims
Now just a waiting game

Now the words flow fast
Emotions don't last
A song of fleeting desire
Lifts the spirit higher

But as the night winds blow
And they're wrapping up the show
Still I raise my weary hands
I let it go and dance..!

the hour is late and upon the wall
i see words written in some
other worldly scrawl
and a part of me knows
I should probably be afraid
yet the only fear I have
is being swayed
to the side of the darkened gloom
that seems to penetrate
every corner of my room
and though I know
the morning will bring the light
it doesn't help me
while I'm here
in this blackened night--
peering at the writing on the wall
which is etched
in some other worldly scrawl
and finally I am able to decipher
and clearly read what is written there:
*"Those who sleep here
must become aware
that when the night grows dim
and light shines through--
there will be death and horror
lying in wait for you."

Missing in Action--
that would be me--
I hide out in my dark room
sometimes afraid
to leave the gloom
but when I finally
find my way back here
I always find writes
that seem so perfect and dear
and I wonder why
it takes me so long
to come back here to read
when so oftentimes
that I do--
it sparks the hidden need
I feel for connection
for all you amazing poets here
thank you, dear poets
for helping me to clear
a path to a new and improved me
I hope I'll be here more often
and that you all
will be happy, safe, healthy and free...

I looked about my windowsill,
and there a lovely whippoorwill,
stood and sang a lovely tune,
about my birthday coming June,

Out in the middle of a real nowhere,
where the light is gently falling,
dark come soon as night comes in,
as birds so sweetly calling,

Mosquitoes bite in summer time,
this place can be quite hot,
but staying in would be a crime,
while getting out is not,

For now the lovely whippoorwill,
who sings the lonesome way,
amidst the frozen earthly loam,
and branches in decay,

I sit alone to hear that song,
the whippoorwill, my heart,
take me back to yesterday,
I rise again to start,

Just like a cancer born in June,
the whippoorwill he loves the Moon
He calls her from a lovely perch,
a tall and sturdy silver birch,

I hope to hear him once come Spring
on his flight his love he bring,
so many songs he knows to sing,
on whippoorwill and tiny wing,
a sweet and soulful little thing,

I close my eyes as I applaud,
his lovely voice entrances me,
& in his voice I'm truly awed,
staring not a choice I see,

Endangered in this place I love,
the whippoorwill, a dearest bird,

Please do your part to save the Earth,
I hope his lovely voice is heard.

Cherie Nolan © 2016