Echoes of Night

I keep pieces of the night
stitched together, memory folded.

Rain taps like whispers.
Unravel thoughts behind drawn blinds.

The city hums, a low breath
against the dark.

Routine is refuge.
Coffee steam rises, a silent promise.

I trace paths of ghosts
through empty streets, quiet echoes.

Threads of longing, tangled wires
cradle artifacts we can't lose.

A glimpse of morning light
threads its grace through windows.

Write against erasure.
Hold what’s left in shaking hands.

The moon watched, relentless witness.

New language for desire,
clarity claims its name.

Let engines hum their lullaby
as stories unfold softly.

Stay to hear them.

Today, the past bleeds into now, grief mingling with the dawn.

--Vera