The alley cats prowl,
And claw the dark
The clatter of the dying cans,
Escaping the pressing bins
The mice and men that weave,
Their weary way to warrens
Where leaning walls embrace,
Their tracks so well remembered
Somewhere in the skittish shadows,
Another night turns over
Deep in the blanketed silence,
Where lonely bodies weep
©Mary Cecil
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taking care of others. I can imagine the dark and windy
nights with little to light up the world but your
beautiful smile. You are born to write! It warms my
heart.
Ron
budd