I Write this Night


From fright of movement in the night,

the shadows cast such gloom upon my

room, where lights are dim and sin is

within and hidden to some but in plain

view of me this night.


Oh my sorrow do I feel losing you

to shades of grays and blacks cast

across my walls, the curtains hung

are dripping with fear, knowing that

you were once here to caress this

dreary lonely room, I must drink

and fall between the cracks of life

where once we danced, laughed

and embraced each other

throughout the endless nights.


Will you comfort me as I dwindle

trying to pen some sense into my

words that don’t come very clearly?

Or will you tantalize me with your

ghostly beauty that fades before

my tired eyes that weep for you

each night in solitude and loss.


How we loved, and walked together

in our gardens, roses bloomed and

thorns did not prick, the scent of

your perfume lingers close, I close

my eyes and you are here among

the living waiting to follow you

my sweet lady of the night.

Take my hand and lead me to

where you are, I am ready.


© Copyright Vincent Moore 2013. All Rights Reserved.


I Write this Night — 2 Comments

    • Don some evenings are dark and dreary, my pen is controlled by some power greater than I and thus I pen. I have a very private and solitary life and I guess being alone much drives the mind into a state of melancholia and since I am able to draw from a deep sorrowful well from my past, thus I write, I am captured and only released after I have poured my heart and soul out in poetry. I appreciate your eloquent appreciation of my work, I am truly humbled and honored by them.

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