Lullabye

“Hush little baby; don’t say a word.”

Moonlight is cold, silver fire through blue night; it slices in from curtains and windowshades, leaving frigid gashes on the walls and smooth, polished puddles of ice on the floor. It washes the softness and leaves things bare and vulnerable, stark and sharp in contrast.

Babies shouldn’t cry so.

“Well I’ll sing you a lullaby.”

Advertisements

Talk back to me. Trust me; I'm listening.

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