The skitter swoosh and crackle of shore, my lullaby. The moon pulls it's watery blanket over my bed of pebbles and shingle where I lay like a forgotten corpse. It tucks me in and leaves me to close my eyes on a pillow made of lost hopes and spilled dreams.
Tomorrow will be better but for now the stars my nightlight. A ceiling that sparkles with the people I've lost and loved and missed. Souls that I need to keep me warm and full of light.
I sleep until my blanket gently recedes and the sun dresses me in a new day.
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Soporific Spirit
I settle in again to the night, there's not much else. I wake to the moon's translucent pallor still straining for providence over the slumbering souls below. Humility and sadness in its glow as the arrogance of a new day begins to hark its departure.
By Carmen Scott6 years ago in Poets
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