Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2016
The night is at it's ripest,
And the poet at his highest

The time of night where for a while,
His lyrics are filled with guile

The time when shadows are divine,
And the stars and the moon greatly shine

But the moon starts to dissipate,
For it has ceased to wait,
And gave in to it's weight...
I guess I should leave, it's getting late
© 2011 Xilhouette
Xilhouette
Written by
Xilhouette
304
   Mike Essig
Please log in to view and add comments on poems