Late

The time is late
The day rests

It’s when the time waits
For dreams to take shape
And hearts to stop to break

When the moon kisses the air
The sky stays still
And spills out its stars
That send down their lights
Which twinkle and stare

Into one heart
At something so rare
Is there something so deep?
So pure
So raw

That you would keep one in your heart
For so long
And be so sure

That you would call
So late
And not wait

And make one your choice
In that voice
With those words
While the rest
Just start to wake

by Absent Wryta

Other poems of WRYTA (31)

Comments (2)

Rhythmic...i could hear the drum beats.......10
The early bird gets the worm