Tuesday, November 6, 2007


Huddled close to the warming rays of the candle
Its feeble glow gives the illusion of heat

My belly full, a sheaf of dead writers in my hand
Lost in the past I share the moment with them

The sleepers grunt, snuffle and wheeze in their dreams
Morpheus comes not for me, not yet!

The stars wheel in their ageless rounds
The Balsams give off their Christmassy smell

A last bit of chocolate to stoke the body furnace
Its bittersweet taste lingers on my tongue

I shiver against the night, the cold in my bones
Put out the candle, time for sleep

Chuck Connors, November 6, 2007

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