Nephthys
Ashen black bricks,
all surround.
Nestled in the darkness,
Night's silent blackened crown.
She owes it all to the light,
the solitary glow.
Screaming out in protest,
draping mist in snow.
In absence of light,
of Sol, Sun, and sight,
nobody would know her,
nor call her "the night".
Copyright © Michael Whatley | Year Posted 2016
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