Adoring The Night | Making Night | Poetry


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Like a distant song

sung by a mother to her child

under the cover of the night sky

he breathes.

Rising, falling,

his chest and the early mist alike.

I lie awake,

I observe the beauty

of the night and of him alike;

of the shadow across his visage;

of the silver covering his skin


cold silver and shadow

hiding gold threads


eyelids fluttering,

quiet moonlight tickling.

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