I hear clouds move restlessly across the night sky
Moonlight bends softly through my window
and I feel truth lurking in the shadows of my room.
I am voiceless in the presence of epiphany.
It climbs into my bed trying to comfort me with regret
caressing me with the fingertips of memory
and yet there is laughter in the promise of the sun
as it finds me cold in the solitude
Of my bed
© Charles Coakley Simpson 2011