Veneration of the Night

Place on me thy cold hand,
Oh beautiful night.
Still my body, my soul, and my mind.
Wash over me gently
In soft rustling breeze,

To remind me that in you is life.

For your presence, you see,
So clear and so still,
Makes it easy to think you have died.
But the truth is that joy
In silence you find,
And hear every heart beat and sigh.

You moan with the weeping,
Caressing the lonely,
And whisper sweet words in their ear.
You gaze on the lovers,
Giving hope to the dreamers
That a love of their own will appear.

Oh sweet night, are you watching
All the lives of your children,
All the secrets that they never tell.
Do you have your own story?
Are you not very lonely?
Or content to look down with deep care?

Well, dear night, I will tell you,
That I look upon you,
And admire you well from down here.

Liquid on Velvet

Vibrence on a beautiful grey day.

.
.
.
.
curvaceous
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
soft

.
.
.
.
.
.
bold

Every Rose Knows a Story

An old poem of mine. One of the few that is not complete rubbish from high school.

Shadows shift. Petals fall.
Time goes by in slow withdrawals
Steadily stripping each crimson lobe
From a stem that won’t be held
By tender hands such as these are.
Thorns will pierce; this beauty mar.
Scarlet bandages, crimson wounds
Scars made and hidden by the same bloom.
It’s joy and pain that keeps them here
Where they’ve been this whole past year.
Here they will stay to watch these eyes
Fill and spill in quiet demise,
As thorns pierce the tenderest part…
The steadily living and beating heart.
They’ll watch also, tears splash down
That fall from a heart where joy abounds.
As roses fill these eyes with love
Soft and gentle but bold enough.

Now that it's time to be Christmasy I'm posting my Autumn leaf pictures.

LIQUID AMBER