Those nights
when I
pulled away
from sleep
and waited
for my words
to settle in
hunger was
well fed
with thirsty lines
inside a legal pad
written by
my only pen
spitting out
blue ink flowing
with the sounds
of the Grateful Dead
empty bottles
sat on top
of my red
mahogany piano
basking in the
brilliance of the moon
peeking through
my open windows
teasing my four cats
wide awake and
waiting for something
to get trapped
between myself
and maybe them
before the shadows
slowly vanished
to let our moments
of youth escape
before another day
would show its face
and take away
what was not written
and never would be…

by Charles Lara

Comments (1)

Frankly I am shocked not to see any comments below this fine piece of words....seems the mention of the, ''grateful dead''' always manages to shoo them away. I know exactly where you are coming from Charles...I've seen them Live...and my dreams have turned into words....