Poetry / A Woman Alone with the Night

It started to get dark as I made my way past the old pine tree that shaded the path I watched dwindle into the night before me, fade into the rusty leaves that fell from the oak who stood tall, my bare parasol, it was the most beautiful sky of all, distant flickers that brushed a scattered picture into miles of blue black canvas, and I walked, alone, with my eyes guided from above, it was just me and the sky that night, love, me and the star light that night, love, that kept me warm, kept me alive when outside the woods, under the beating sun that day I had felt less like a woman, and in that way the sun had let me down and the moon made me rise.

Sighs, as I tip-toed through the maze of being lost and unafraid, of being unable to see and not caring who could see me. Sighs, and I found a bare patch of ground, sat, sound, profound whispers of silence, and a single thread of moonlight reflected off my lips, I kissed the sky that night, and she kissed me back, like a mother kisses her child, like I had been gone for a while and finally found my way back to her eternal smile, and in the darkness of her humble home I found a bed to call my own.

I slept under the safety of her stars that night, wrapped myself in the blanket of her blue black canvas and rolled around on the warmth of the moonlit ground, surrounded by darkness and the profound sound of silence.

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