I stare long though my window now, and hear
Faint voices I remember from the past.
They seem to whisper softly, far and near,
Like crickets heard, unseen within the grass,
Or restless children murmuring during Mass;
Each rustle conjuring a friend I’ve missed,
Some fond acquaintance, or a girl I’ve kissed.
And in the calmness of this cloudless night,
With stars the only comrades I can claim,
I sit amidst the swaying candlelight,
And dream they’ve all come back to me again,
To make me feel like the moon; a swain
Without a sweetheart in the heavens’ dome,
Slow-dancing in a darkened hall, alone.
John Polselli’s poetry has been published in many literary journals and is the recipient of several Editor’s Choice Awards. As a poet, John enjoys composing in all traditional forms including free verse as well as inventing his own.