Ragged Claws

Walking through the streets
with all these dreams and ghosts,
caught by a shiver of moon,
a passing cloud -

a passing moment of perfection
in a sigh of stars,
that bathe me
in their distant glory.

Walking through the streets,
my heart a waiting murmur,
my lips now pause for breath,
one word: your name -

and now the night
(this miracle,
transformed)
is made of new beginnings.

Walking through the streets,
deep inside the winter night,
my breath is warm and wonder -
longing, whispering to you.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 29th, 2008 at 8:43 am and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.