It was a black moon night
absent of shadows,
full of dreams.
Days bouquet of clouds
melted into tasteful air.
There was a release of sounds,
living for a moment,
then lost.
The pulse of dark became
strong.
A light breeze engaged
unwilling leaves.
Stone walls held tightly
the history of land.
There was a passing of words.
Promises were made
never to forget this evening.
Roger Singer 