I wanted to write this one because I had been listening to some of the girls talk about their families. It was all very funny, and it made me happy to hear them laughing and talking together. I wanted to try and capture the mood, light and cheerful. But something happened while I was writing, and this is what came out instead.

Laughing talking
stories shared, all before my eyes.
Cold stone beneath me
reminding me of where I belong.
I love to hear others
yet rarely speak myself
longing to be noticed but unwilling
to draw attention.
Is not the joy of another enough
for me, what need for more
have I?
The moon is sustained by reflected light
why then should I seek
a source from within myself?

~ ~ ~
This one I was working on all day...it was one of those days. I warn you, gentle reader, I indulged the melodramatic portion of myself while writing this... Of course it may well have been the four cups of coffee and the fact that it was nearly 2am...

I cry to the Wind
the tears that pride refuses
to let fall filling my voice
"Where has he gone-
Can you see him still-
he that travels
the long road,
the road drawing him
continually away from me?"
"Hush, small one" whisks
the dry North wind
"he is here, coming
toward me now
to my deep, pine shaded abode."

The clouds that filled the sky
have been swept away,
swept along the floor of the heavens
as so much dust.
The stars shine cold
filling the very air
with their clear hazy light.
As the moon is slowly drawn
below the crest of the hill,
a chill finger of air swirls about me
causing me to shiver
shifting on cold stone
hearing again what is not there to be heard.
I sift through words thoughts
trying to piece together
what I had held so precariously
and let fall.
Gradually a simulacrum
of the sensible and practical forms,
and the wandering Muse,
who had kidnapped my bedfellow Sleep,
is appeased with the small stream
flowing from my soul.
Following that false semblance
and the shadow of lost Sleep
I betook myself to bed.