Dead in shadow till
The sun moves.


A New Year, a new poem

This poem was my attempt to work with rhyme. It tells a story of the prideful night and the peaceful sun.
Here’s to a prosperous new year of writing in 2014.

The Night’s Pride

On this day as any day
the sun rose,
and later closed,
it’s heavy eye
and breathed a sigh.

And so it was
that night rose,
black as crows in heavy rain.

He mocked the moon,
and mocked the tide,
but held the stars
as his pride.

And laughed at men
who gazed in awe,
at what he alone
could call his own.