Night Sky in June

Written by Joseph Hill

June.  Night.  The sky is wide open,
deep and yearning in it's fragility.
All is in the blue and black of hidden,
closely guarded, walls of mystery.

And I breathe in the narcotic air.
Her narcotic hair.

June.  Night.  The sky is invaded,
a swarming sea of sparkling liquid hope.
In the midst, swimming up ahead,
a dream moon, morphing moon of a dope.

She whispers, you're my drug.
She is my drug.

June.  Night.  And the sky and moon mingle,
becoming one in the dark sanctity of night.
Cloaked in hope's starlight, all a twinkle,
they rode though time, clear, true and bright.

Hushing, shaded trees, brushing my soul.
You brushed my soul.

It quivers, and breaks.  Where are you?

Now.  Night.  Indifferent, it drags tattered
dream-clouds, over razor wishing stars.
Wisp-like and weak, they burst, fractured,
rain dropping to the parched ground to be
collected in the jars of memory as forever foolishly
cherished and loved and remembered,
fragments of a soul searcher, a soul partner.
My soul obsession.

Dark celebration of my Lady Night.

With each breath, word, and touch
of memory, you collapse me.

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