As blind as justice in a
world of black and white
washed truth. Shades of
gray overcast right from wrong,
wrong from right; the difference
between day and night.
Sifting through moral
and ethical standards
for the precise fit,
in faith that hope
still is rewarded.
So please won’t someone
speak to me,
The Prayer of Dawn.
Old story told again;
boy meets girl. sweet nothings
whispered as tender flesh joins.
Passion’s fire bridges the gap
between loins, and somewhere
betwixt sultry looks,
flirtatious giggles,
and teasing caresses,
two hearts open;
another love’s born.
Time passes as
is its wont.
Passion’s fire still burns
in an exchange of glances,
so on bended knee,
he asks for her eternity.
Please, I adjure her,
sing to me
the Twilight Serenade.
Peaceful reflection on
times gone by,
before time bent
what was straight
into creaking old bones
and rained snow down
on once raven locks.
In memories a bit
more fuzzy than before;
everything greener, cleaner,
better in days of yore.
“I remember when” he
says, gazing off at
the horizon and seeing only
shades of yesteryear
playing across his mind
like an old time picture show.
Wisdom gained and imparted
for a new generation
sitting on his knee,
in trust that the
future will flourish
free from mistakes
of erstwhile forefathers.
So listen close
as it tell you
the Moonlight Lullaby.
