Past Midnight Past by Brian O’Neil

You left the back door open,
But the night never did come in,
The breeze whispered to itself,
Not daring to cross the threshold,
As if it saw you as I did,

Floating with the shadows,
Swirling as dark water rolling
In the archway smiling,
Your feet seemed to hover
Over the hardwood floor
That had become a golden pond
In a perfect summer dawn
Butter smooth lamplight glow
In a ground bound halo beneath you,
Eyes unseen but smile so serene,
Because maybe you knew more
About 3 a.m. then I did,
Having been there before,
Or maybe here forever
It all seemed the same then,
Seeing in you neither saint
Or sinner,
Just sinuous sensuous grace
Waiting for the only thing
That could happen
To begin
Or perhaps continue,
Did you hear my heart throbbing?
The shuffling rhythm
Playing the music of my desire?
All the denials spoken in sunlight,
Turned to lies by my presence,
Until words were worthless
To be left untouched and unspoken,
Only my eyes and a hand half raised
To take or be taken
I wasn’t sure

I’ve never known what you were seeing,
Dont think I really want to know,
What difference can it make?
Other than to crack the lens
Of the camera of my memory,
On June nights I close my eyes
Can still smell the hyacinths,
See the curve of your shoulder,
In the first light of morning,
And if I try
I can believe,
Just barely,
That then is still now



Brian is a veteran truck driver and professional vagabond working long haul, sharing what he sees and feels.