At the end of our road
A straight road
Of dusty gravel
Well trodden in all
Our passing,
The waning eyelid moon
Rises omnisciently, anointing
a bedazzled sea;
light-scape dappling, dancing.

On this night
at rest at sleep, as
many others, we may
not attend
the ancient eye, in
perpetual orbit
slowly winking
her way to shut.



MChallis @ 2015