Wednesday, March 10, 2010


© Gloria Smith 2010

In moonlight everything becomes a sculpture

In its magic, questions are punctuated with exclamation points of awe

In searching the infinity of Heaven in a night sky

An Atheist thinks of God & wonders

The night haunts me like a phantom

All her stars belong to me

I own them every one

My eyes are lit with the scattered star dust of countless ages past

You walk in my mind; my heart - just out of touch

No comments: