Drifting on whispering time,
rides a swirling foggy night.
An endless mass of trembling bleak,
caught between earth and blight.
Moonlight shivers all around,
passing through aching breaths,
as glowing dancing lights arrive,
on seamless musical steps.
By and by time sings its tale,
of ages come and gone,
when we played those glimmering lights,
in our own lovely songs.
Songs now silent on the breeze,
to never gleam again,
unless we stand beneath the moon
and invite the light in.
© 1998 Christie Benson, all rights reserved
appears here by permission