When the sky is
dressed in midnight stars
and my mind is heavy
with questions
I let these tiny dreams
spill between the blinking
lights of the city
I know words sound
better at night
when the silent stars
cloud the sky of every
lonely hunter
I read the old poets
the teachers of
sorrowful things
I know she is here
I see her smile through
the dusty light
I am high enough
to see the ugly
side of heaven
I am high enough to
feel insignificant
and if I happen to fall
from this great height
how soon will I be
forgotten …
Clay.M