sunbaked, faded, dried to the point of cracking

i flee from your arms to the waiting coolness of night

surrounded by these towering witnesses i shed my skin of lies

and dive into the pools of waving grass

free am i to be who i am

a creature of darkness

a shadow in the night

until the fingers of morning beckon me forward

and the poplars sing their remembrance of life

forever will i live mourning the bright

and remembering this twilight

Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.