dark poetry

lo! 'tis a gala night
when the wind works against us in the dark
sun stepped down from his golden throne
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
days endeared to every muse
in may
so fallen
are you awake?
uplifting, as the wind blew
in halls of sleep you wandered by
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
glass-blower of time