An Emotion Leak.

Stranger of the night

Poetry 468

The autumn leaves waltz to the strains of the night,
The aging woods murmur with stories untold.
As the city shakes the last vestiges of daylight,
I linger on the benches like a wraith of the old.

A silent sentinel, each night I scry
The trickle of humans who pass me by;
The whispers of their lives, a battered anchor;
That grounds me, in a world torn asunder.

Each one sways to the strings of their lives;
And for me to touch, would be to sin.
So as a lonely serf, I ghost over the waters,
When a shadow whispers across my skin.

The trickle of humans still pass us by;
Yet neither looks at the stranger so nigh.
Two souls captive in worlds of their own,
With the solace of wind gently blowin’.

Silence swirls like the cloak of a friend;
Yet the touch of your being does comfort lend.
I slay the words fluttering in my soul
And with a weary heart, away I stroll.

The trickle of humans still pass me by
On the next eve, where I linger and scry.
The world seems same, though not quite,
As the shadow of your absence haunts my night.

Footsteps echo and fade,
While I wait for the treads of you.
As I chide this absurd hope within,
Your shadow whispers across my skin
And I smile.

Photo courtesy: Google

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