The night serenely beckons me

The night serenely beckons me The moon a heavy-lidded eye Would this be a poor night to cry, To die alone: again, would she? Today has been a day for thinking Fruitless hopes and mental pacing “ifs” and “buts” and time is wasting Get a job! My heart is sinking Could a cloud bring to eclipse The Sun and Moon upon my sky, The rods and cones within my eye? Such stifling silence on those lips! Can the tide of seasons bring Some soul to disenchant her spell? A tale that’s difficult to tell, Of the one whom I called Spring. And am I Autumn, even Winter? I am Summer, bred and born And though I tire, I’m not worn My heart, with all its splinters Still, the night serenely calls… And if I died upon this eve, What right would give me cause to leave? And logic simply stalls. Mark Burton Friday, April 27th, 2007, 12:44 A.M.