The Other Side of Midnight

Chimera Poetry

Meet me on the other side of midnight
the place of song endings.
Hold me up so I can touch the sky, the stars, the moon…
Shall we dance among the wishing wells? 
Dropping so many copper pennies in each one
that the wishes overflow and escape.
Meet me on the other side of midnight
at the corner of Camelot and Oz
and bring some sunflowers to fill the empty vases along the alleyways,
to light the walls as we write the story of our names on them 
with the shadows capering like plumage around our faces
as we sign them with melting wax and kisses.
Meet me on the other side of midnight
to board the atlantean trolley leaving soon.
The seafoam already gathers itself in great and pluming fountains
as a welcoming sign
a signal
as we round the bend, crossing to the other sides 
where midnight is just approaching

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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