Tuesday, October 9, 2007

Soulmate

Sometimes, late at night,
she would whisper stories to the star-shaped pillow
beneath her head
by the glow of a lone streetlight.
She thought that she would be an ideal person
to share a bed with:
quiet, still, warm.
And good at telling stories.

1 comment:

take/flight said...

In addition to being a lovely poem,
this
could be the opening
of a fantastic novel.