The Three of Threes.
I sit in my disquiet
Foreboding silence sent to me
By the three of threes.
The room is soft.
Pale green... the window large
It stretches out towards the night.
My own reflection stares at me
Life lines in older skin.
No comfort ever came
From images in glass
A good companion a reflection can never be..
Nor solace
On a cold smooth night like this..
The night speaks to itself
To animals that stalk the dark
And flitter on the wing
The night is busy with the moon
Is occupied with stars and other points in space.
I see some fallen stars upon the grass ....
....and hear again the ring of silence
From the three of threes.
Kristine Byrne 25th Sept 2012