He leans on his elbow, thinks.
A pair of owls coo.
Sitting in his swing chair
Late into this winter’s night
Clear star lit sky
Full moon
Hanging by an invisible thread
Contemplating.
Silence of the night
Willing him to write.
Night wind, soothing.
His thoughts fall on those departed
Those apart
Forever joined
For all, a prayer to the silent Healer.
Poetry from The Man Shed
22/01/2020
~The Poet’s Poet~
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