Goodnight

The moons soft touch caresses my face,
dragging me further away from promises fulfilled.
The hope of a new day flittering softly on the edges of a tired mind.
To surrender to sleep,
so that dawn may come.
Dawn,
scattering the last traces of night,
traces that will be reborn into the dreams of our hearts desires.
Though when these tired eyes of mine fall,
and the gentle blanket of sleep holds me,
my last thought will be you,
the promise of your smile to give me strength,
to begin a day anew. 

Reviews

[MoriartyMesa]

You painted me a picture of Humphrey Bogart sitting in a room in Savannah, one drink, one smoke, one last new day.