Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

It was in the blue of it

it was the vastness of it

it was the dark mystery of it

the midnight rampage of loneliness

sheltered in its faraway light

wrapping around the world in spring sun

winters tempest of power

then the little patch out of the small window

the last quiet room left

not alone

it was the sky of her love

that I felt

always looking over me

always close

the celestial security blanket....always there.....never needs to be laundered....rain is always on the way.....then comes the spring sun

"It was in the blue of it

it was the vastness of it

it was the dark mystery of it

the midnight rampage of loneliness

sheltered in its faraway light

wrapping around the world in spring sun

winters tempest of power

then the little patch out of the small window

the last quiet room left
"


To me (and perhaps only to me;
take this for what it is: random
commentary from an anonymous
blip of light on a screen), the poem
ends gracefully, beautifully,
correctly, there: at "left".

hunted down now to slip away agin good by