THE NIGHT

THE NIGHT

This was an impromptu which happened on a chilly night while tending to my little tot.

When the babble of the day subsides,

She speaks,                                                                                              

Have you heard her?

For a thousand volumes in a million language does she speak.

The silent night speaks.

She speaks through the eyes conversing silently through the windows,

The two lovers silent, yet a lot said.

She speaks through the silent distress of the mother trying to console her infant.

And through the happy squeals of a little one wanting to cavort.

She speaks through the agony of the old

And she speaks through the frustration of young.

She speaks through the excitement of those returning abode.

And through the aching heart of soldiers missing their loved.

She speaks through the struggle of a student preparing for a better upcoming

And through the hope of those waiting for a miracle.

She speaks through some moans of love

And yet she speaks through some muffled cries of plea which are easily buried.

She speaks of the loneliness of some,

And she speaks of some seeking solitude.

She has tales to tell,

Can you hear?

For you are dead to the night, to her voice,

All you wait for is to drown her voice in the noise of the day.

She will speak again, and yet again,

Talk to her,

For a thousand volumes in a million language does she speak.