Unremembered Keepsakes

The empty seconds, pared of meaning,

Tick and slink like a thief in the night.

The days tiptoe facelessly into the void

Of moldy unremembered keepsakes,

And time, in artful artistry, tattoos 

The horrid nothingness on my face.   

Dear

The hard wintry gaze

Of granite in the moonlight

Could you be any colder?

Tomorrow

As the golden sky gives way to the night,

A mosquito lands on my arm and I let it –

Tomorrow I might not enjoy its sting.

The Night Dreams Too

The Night too has dreams

Of discarding her darkness

And donning the Day’s brightness

Sometimes she’ll linger into the Dawn

Or show up too early at Dusk

Tonight, spare a thought

For the Night’s futile dreams

For, in some form or other,

You too share her dreams