Ronald Chapman


Night


Time passes as night blooms.
Her lips awoke the soul of the sleeping city,

She grabbed the microphone,
As the stars screamed.

How this girl's voice has smitten me.

There are hundreds of places she could be.
But she is here with me.

In a past life, I banged on empty garbage cans.
While whistling alone in my room.

This night!
My heart is beating like a drum for you...

Submitted: Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Topic of this poem: love


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