You stand beneath the barren sky,
with darkness caking on your skin.
What flickers now behind those eyes?
What beckons still from far within?
What will we make of this silence now?
The moment stretches thin,
and hangs beneath the thread-bare clouds
wishing we would let it end.
Silver bleeds the wounded sky;
the moonlight fades into your skin.
What whispered invitation lies
within the breath behind those lips?
The stars are drifting in the sky;
waves of black show where they've been.
One more time I'll say goodbye:
my words were stolen by the wind.
Copyright 2010 by Dan Bach.