Midnight

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Midnight

I sit outside at night, I see the stars.
Its dark beauty overwhelms me sometimes.
For it is better than any ring or priceless heirloom.
It is not a material of this world but one of many.
I live for the darkest blues and the different shades of black that swirl.
Maybe I see the tint of the deepest purple
But each night is different, no night is ever the same.
From, what I see as I sit out each night just the same.
That if their isn't a night then their will be no day.

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To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

wickedjester’s Poems (8)

Title Comments
Title Comments
You... 2
Letting Fear Go 1
Midnight 0
A poem to share never lost or forgotten... 1
Society 4
You and Me 2
....A Broken mind.... 1
This Man I have not found yet... 1