The night is dark,
Venomous, with serpentine
Streaks of lightning,
Cutting through my pane.
![](https://theshesaga.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/image-7.png)
My radio sings to me
Of mornings spent
In the mountains.
It’s lonely here:
A lone plate of warmed porridge
![](https://theshesaga.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/image-8.png)
With some crackers
Awaits me. Last Christmas
We’d danced together
And sipped wine. You
Looked beautiful.
![](https://theshesaga.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/image-9.png)
Voices have faded away:
My feelings still speak
And weave their way
Into pages that have yellowed
With time. The darkness
![](https://theshesaga.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/image-10.png)
And the light dance
Through corridors of time.
The saga plays on,
Shadows slipping in and out
In repetitive dual patterns:
![](https://theshesaga.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/image-11.png)
The light and the dark,
Empty rooms and crowded hallways,
The eternal and the ephemeral –
The twain shall meet.
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