Scribe of the Night

A symphony echoes like ripples through the velvet darkness of midnight. Music to one’s ears is silence to another’s and the room is thus filled with as much sound as it is with quiet. Street lamps illuminate empty pathways far below, lined with white columns like those of Ancient Rome. Each column stands vigil in the deserted citadel and guards its fallen queen. And I, scribe of the night, record the touch of solitude’s cool fingertips and the embrace of the moonlit mist that keeps me company. High above, the sky is aglow with the wishes of insomniacs and hopeless romantics, and I blow a wish upon my kiss to join them.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s