The Nocturnal Niche
Feet tired of walking many miles,
hot blister of grueling day
one on other painfully piles,
look toward the falling night’s way.
Satin touch of embracing air,
seeping in through the velvet pores
of the cool flaps of loving pair,
waits every night for me, allures.
Nocturnal niche for tortured feet
puts to rest the toiling journey,
mild succor comes as timely treat,
I forget day-long trudge thorny.
They walk me to my cradle old,
I sail the dreams on hues of blues,
in peace sleeps the day’s pain untold
in my faithful pair of night shoes.
May 20, 2019
The poem is set in iambic tetrameter
Syllable count checked on howmanysyllables.com
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