A Thousand Years

It feels as if a thousand years have passed,
since the last time I looked into your eyes,
dark disks that know the color of my soul.
I keep praying that you'll find me again,
somewhere in the layers of chiffon I cling to.
This time I hope that instead of watching me
dance alone in the frail light of the moon,
that you'll dance with me in the shadows.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sometimes a poem struggles to be born, to serve the purpose of a poet...but there are times when it is born with an ease that has no purpose, other than to live quietly in moonlight.