Babies are sleeping
in silver cradles;
cats roam with a
certain aimlessness
that only the night
can detect.
Mist mingles
with the undulating
smoke
of dying fires,
with my warm breath
caught in the darkness
of the air --
languid voices whisper
and I remember
the color of your eyes.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 12:06 PM UTC
Babies are sleeping
in silver cradles;
cats roam with a
certain aimlessness
that only the night
can detect.
Mist mingles
with the undulating
smoke
of dying fires,
with my warm breath
caught in the darkness
of the air --
languid voices whisper
and I remember
the color of your eyes.