I listen to the
darkness,
the beautiful kind
when the lights are
off,
and I close my eyes
and see the last
light
burned into my mind.
I sit, in my poetry
nook,
in the corner of the
room,
in a chair, arms
leaning, at rest,
my feet propped.
I listen, listen,
ceiling fan low,
box fan high, pointed
toward me
to carry the sound
of the silver crackle
of the millionth star
no less wonderful
than the first.
And it might be
yours, the only light
in this dark room
tonight.
© 2014 Jennifer
Wagner
For all you beautiful,
amazing poets out there. Thank you.