Little Night

A Mutant Mini Sonnet.
_____________________

How quiet comes this little night, so threadbare are its shoes
arriving here without a clue and nothing left to lose.
I search around with all my might, to try and find some patches,
but all are too small to fill the holes, and nothing ever matches.

How quiet comes this little night, on broken un-flapped wings
stepping soft on specks of dust t’where no one ever sings.
I try to let the song take flight, and sing without the fear,
but though song be there, and note be struck, there isn’t any ear

How quiet comes this little night, as empty is it’s bowl
it’s clear so far its pilgrimage has taken quite a toll.
I try to offer some respite, a crumb or two at least,
but it knows not on what to dine and so has yet to feast.

How quiet comes this little night, so cold, so small, so blind
knowing not of what or even that which it has left behind.
I try to spark a little light, to cast a warming glow,
but it’s chills doth kill the fire, and it will never know.

How quiet comes this little night, just like the night before,
and on, and on, and on, it seems, Im sure there will be more.
And though this repetition musters neither tear nor yawn,
my spirit needs an ending, and I can’t wait til dawn.