Contrasts:

A Doodle in Words

I wonder lonely through the night,
The cold of the heat spikes my mind,
My pen cannot write,
For fear of the light,
In which I dive,
I reach the edge,
Of my shadow,
In the darkness,
I feel the door,
Of my soul,
The handle is warm,
To the touch,
Of a woman,
But the reality of,
Life is soft,
For my shallow is grave,
And my depth divine.

©1996