SILENT WITNESSES
When the shadows of my soul
overcome the brightness
of the moonlight,
I slip into my garden:
for a dose of crimson wisdom
from Abraham Lincoln,
or the scented presence of my
charming Marilyn Monroe.
My roses know
how I am at dawn,
when the cursed night’s
dreams seek awakening;
and at dusk,
as the day is silenced
by the cruel indifference
of the passing time.
My unlikely but trusty friends.
CBR 14 Apr 2025
00:50
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