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-the longest sounds of night,
will always come here now-
the water dripping, a murmur or cry,
a tinkling sound of crystal,
or tear drop, on my cold face,
from my little girl's eye.
and the wind, will always sound alone,
her chimes won't ring the same again.
and if loneliness becomes this place,
I'll carress her doll with my hands.
and if the silence steals my breath,
and stars begin to fall around me,
I'll walk in her room where she would rest,
and let her soft blue pillow,
find me.
------
David T. Culver
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THE RED OF ROSE
