After Dark
The world grows softer
when the lights go low,
when the clock forgets its manners
and time moves slow.
Your voice becomes a whisper
the night can barely hold,
a secret drifting gently
through shadows tipped with gold.
Outside the window
the moon leans close to see,
as if the sky itself
is curious about you and me.
Your laugh falls quiet
like a coat upon a chair,
and suddenly the distance
between us isn’t there.
No rush.
No noise.
Just breath and quiet spark,
two souls speaking softly
after dark.
And somewhere in that silence
where the wildest hearts embark
we learn the sweetest language
is written
after dark.
By Jason Strickland
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After Dark
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