© Steve King
All rights reserved
Too long these winter moons,
dark the heart that waits.
Unquiet souls
will seek their peace,
akin to sleep,
silence.
—As if new
mornings may await,
sunlight yet appease.
Though lightning stripes
each transient dream;
though winter’s moon
does linger on the dawn.
A new post for Imaginary
Gardens with Real Toads
and Tuesday’s Open
Link Night at the dVerse pub.
