Friday, April 8, 2005

Passing Touch

Sweet whispers taunt and beg.
Day falls again for the night.
Smooth cool winds carry the wraiths around the city.
Bending in doorways to catch the sights.
Letters and numbers give way to touch and feel.
Less thinking.
More thoughts.
A peaceful understanding that the time is finally here.
This is one of those busy moments of nothing.
One of those times where stillness is exertion.
And the night is coming.
With its whispers.
Sweet and dead.