A Lone Man In The Dark

Threading slow, gentle as the wind
Of the night missing a moon.
A weary body, absent of mind,
Yet he softly whistles, a fancied rune.
-
On the street, A lone man in the dark.
In his mind, A man in quest for bliss.
Walking and whistling, Just as a skylark.
His eyes, window to his heart - a gaping abyss
-
Strange man on a rare night.
Threading as though his mistress is time.
But he fears for his home so tight,
With silence thats worth no dime.

Reviews

[Nirmala Alba]

Really liked this poem! Good job :)