Night Soul

Poems / Friday, August 20th, 2010

When the fingers of the night
Moved up my body
I felt not a tremor
not an itch
not even the touch
of mortality

But when the fingers of the night
crept up
my soul
and clasped it tight
never letting go
I felt the touch of

In the morning I woke up
and found the sun was out
the milkman came
the newspaper fell
the crow rasped
the milk spilt
the paper shred
all the doubts
I ever had that the mind can see
what fain the soul cannot touch

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