Midnight Exchange (or Night Colloquy)
We sat.
That was all.
Our backs against the wall,
the night around us.
Behind us were the careless,
in front the carefree.
We spoke.
And that was it.
The words would sit-
careless words sprinted, and the carefree stomped.
But ours sat, quiet, soft, small-
the thoughts more present than the sounds.
We saw.
Each other, the night-
Our moon was as bright as morning.
And the morning, careless, carefree, moving- bounded,
unable to remain as the night had.
This poem is about:
Me