On a silver night

On a silver night
when the sky is purple-grey
rather than black,
the moonlight is full
and the sparkling stars
dance into my bedroom,
making me glad to be awake
at 2am.

On a silver night
I am enticed from my bed
to hear the stars sing
their stories and adventures
of midnight liaisons,
mysterious encounters and
secret elopements,
of robbers and creeping thieves,
of folk who do not want
their deeds to be seen
by daylight eyes.

On a silver night
the purple-grey sky is lit
with adventures and myths
of heroes fulfilling impossible tasks,
courage beyond imagination and
loving and letting go
that renders hearts broken.

On a silver night
I am Shakespeare, Tolstoy and Tolkien
as the greatest stories
shine out of the stars and
weave into my imaginings,
as the ordinary becomes miraculous
and the purple-grey sky is a backdrop
for elves, fairies and angels to manifest.

On a silver night
the singing stars
dance into my bedroom and
I am glad to be awake
to hear their stories.

© 19 Dec 2013