Night falls without sound.
In the thin rain, parched memories (of you)
dig deeper into my mind for sustenance.
Flickering neurons, and my eyes
create holograms of you from
the glitter of moonlight on rain.
Your hand in mine, memory's children beckon
and in the thin rain we walk deeper into
this ancient game of mind versus matter,
Night falls without sound.
In the thin rain, I think about standing
my ground. You hold my mind.
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Paints a clear picture of a soft summer rain, I ponder the "stand my ground"
ReplyDeleteIt is nice to read of them once more