literature

Midnight Musing

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Literature Text

In these quiet and shaded moments I think
of you, even when you are not with me.
Hundreds of miles.  Thousands, even, we blink
and the moments pass by, leaves on a tree
that grows too swift for us to do more than
stand back and watch in discomfort that time
will take the path found most convenient and fan
these fires, these new desires, until this rime
is little more than ashes and memory
and we are left to sit in the desert
and ask philosophical questions we
do not want to know the answers to, curt
excuses made for times when I wake you
in the middle of the night and take you.


William F. DEVault.  all rights reserved.
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