The clouds rolled past the lonesome moon
Quiet, except for the whispers
The night played on
The grass was wet on my slippers
—
I watched and listened
In hushed tones, the night spoke
Its own language, inaudible
Punctuated by the frog’s croak
—
Somewhere in my full memory
Those moments still reverberate
That night you came to me
Your words in my ear, sealed my fate
Leave a Reply