cat-181607_1280By Fred
Spirits of the night abound,
They cross the sky without a sound.
Unhindered by the tortured leaves
On branches bent in icy breeze.
An eerie light through crevice creeps,
And falls upon the one that sleeps.
A tender kiss, a fleeting chance,
Permits her soul once more to dance.
But fickle moon is wrenched away,
Leaving just the ghosts to play.
Nor screech of owl, nor clap of thunder,
Can wake her from this ancient slumber.
For she, and all six feet around,
Are never troubled by the sound.

7 thoughts on “Asleep

  1. This is a really neat little poem: classic in its style with an outstanding blend of imagery, story, and sensations, and lean, muscular writing that gives it power and a subtly resonating thunder. Excellent work.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Many thanks for all the encouraging comments. I live next to a cemetery, and whilst walking through it, most of these lines seemed to simply spring into my head.
    PS. The picture was selected by The Drabble.


Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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