The Wee Hours Sigh
In the middle of the night, I can hear your sigh.
Shouting to those who stare outside the azure sky.
Your scent instills to my soul a feeling of calm.
Away from the abyss, reality at the edge of a chasm.
It's approaching from the insights of time; I'm aware.
As the stream of the tide is on, the echo tries to dare.
Who may tenderly persuade me to care tunes?
Who may soothe my soul with peculiar vivid boons?
And protect me with the fulness of his quietness.
Of life span glorious nights to the day's countless.
In a meadow of velvety, wispy willows by the lake.
In the chilling pre-fall breezes, we quiver and shake.
There is no limit to how distal and deep you might cease!
Currently, this still life scene is denuded of the breeze.
From swards, tremors, and wilderness to dull blue height.
The skyline is illuminated by a swarm of merciful light.
A few trees appear to be nuzzling the sky under the gray.
However, none can match the splendor of wood's hooray!
Written: February 10, 2022
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