Midnight.

May I have this dance tonight,
In darkness a prelude to twilight.
Do you hear the poets of piano play,
Schubert’s last three sonatas,
Chopin’s nocturnes in melancholic grey.

Musical chords in harmonics low,
Sweeping cold winds softly blow.
A face in its peerless grace,
Lost in a languid dream of trance divine.

Ride along the heights of heaven,
Scribbling names in the stars.
The constellations may come alive,
In celestial history till end of time.

Good O’Charlotte weeps tonight,
Of each teardrop one star falls.
A bereaved heart a raging inferno,
She is dancing in hypnotic sorrows.

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 )

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s