It’s the journey, not the destination they say. I agree.
It’s not the punctuation, it’s the message on the page.
It’s not the words, it is the space between them.
It’s not the darkness of the night, it is the glow of the moon…
Liquid shadows dance on a midnight ceiling
Flirting with the wood grain of knotty pine
A pen is dancing to the soundless feeling
Twirling into starlit rhyme
The house is sleeping, I hear the dreams
Tip-toeing from room to room
They smell of summer, faded jeans
And the flower of youth in bloom
Smiling in silence, I remember a song
And I will sing it no longer in sorrow
The water is deep, and the road is long
There will be a new dawn tomorrow
Amid this thought, with lips still upturned
The Sandman silently sprinkles his grains
So the eyes that cried, and the hands that burned
Close with bliss, no longer pained