under moonlight

while standing in the corner
one arm draped over the back of a chair
or sprawled across the midnight sky

even the sun sleeps

when grass finds a way out
hustling inbetween baited breaths
while formulating new hypothesis

even the sun sleeps

wherever books are sold
the ones you read off the page
scrawled down with invisible ink

there, even there, the sun sleeps

the sun, it never sleeps.
not under moonlight
(or sonata melody)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: