Midnight

During most of the evening [of 17 Sep] the word "Midnight" had been wandering around in my mind but I could not find anything with which to associate it.  At about 02:00, however, this poem started to grow, almost fully formed and with a couple of really minor alterations is what you see here.




Midnight  -  18 Sep 12


Midnight
A whispered prayer
Gossamer thoughts
Fragrant ideas born
Of things in shadowed memories

Shadowed memories of
Midnight
Ideas held suspended
In places
Where light seldom goes

Light plays
In fevered memories
Midnight
Times when old thoughts
Seldom play

Play the games
From when we were young
And dreamt that
Midnight
Was somewhere we could go

Somewhere in our thoughts
A secret place
We always held hands
And held the thoughts of
Midnight





I rather like the way that the word "Midnight" wanders through the poem and that the first line of each stanza contains an echo of the last line of the preceding one.