A sketch

The moon sets over the trees, stained yellow, my perennial love

And the kite shield in the sky, or perhaps an axe, glistens down

Dim, eternal,

As close to forever as you and I can see.

The clouds wander, on secret journeys they never reveal

And the wind plays upon my skin, whispering tales

In tongues my ears have long learned and forgotten in ages past.

And in this moment, I am at peace

And you are barred from the gates of my mind.

I hope you see it in your mountain home,

And rejoice in sleep far from my gaze.

I am, again, if only for a moment,

And a handful of these scattered scenes,

Makes it all worth it, this happy hollow candlelit play

And I thank the playwright

For this poor tired actor's role.