The chink of light eludes me; it's out dancing with the moon. I'm drifting in this cell of dreams we made. There were some days within these walls when that mere slip of light came dancing with the shadows as they played.
I still, at times, will watch for light to grace these graceless planes - to dress these empty days in glad array, as if unsaid farewells aren't real. But these have told me much: your silence tells me all you cannot say.
As for the last line, Hoot, I can't claim it. This was an exercise that a number of poets I know participated in -- where we gave each other lines to use as last lines. That line came from a poet friend who shares my interest in using "punch" lines.
[This message has been edited by RAM (edited 04-04-2000).]