Untitled -Chris Nelson

Born into the night

Sharp-suited, black

Against the shadows,

Felt your footsteps

Cold and soundless


Each placed deep within my own,

Your breath,

Chill upon my neck

As your words swirled,

Like birds lost in the warmth

Of early winter,

Around my head,

My back sheltered by 

The uneasiness of your coat

Wrapped about my shoulders,

Felt your hands eat

Into my formaldehyde mind,

Sowing the seeds for a harvest

Misted by candle-wick days

Which devoured the light

And led the Sun to its

Uneasy bed,

Born into the night

Cut from the promise of light,

Against the shadows

I felt your footsteps.

An older poem that has appeared before but vanished!

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020

online at: https://chrisnelson61.wordpress.com/

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