The smallest hours of night
I often wander there,
The hidden places of my soul;
A perpetual traveler riding
Through mystic currents
That can only be guided
By the beatings of my heart.
And the moon holds sway
Somewhere above me,
A silver disk of borrowed light
That goes unheeded by
The shadows it conjures
As they dance across
My bedroom floor.
And I seek you out
In those hidden places,
The image of your smile
To guide me as I make my way,
Your voice like music in a room
That has stood silent much too long
And waiting to be filled once more.
So think not less of me for seeking you out.
Your heart is warm.
Your soul is kind.
And you shine with a light all your own.
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Sandie May Angel :o)