Monday, August 10, 2009

Thunder in the Eleventh Hour




The Eleventh Hour Thunder
by Matthew H. Burns

I was awakened by thunder in the Eleventh hour.
I opened my eyes to a wondrous new world.
The air was crisp, and a bird was singing
A song I had never before heard.

The scent of Calla Lilies permeated my bedchamber
Carried by a gentle breeze through my open window.
The eiderdown pillow beneath my head
Was fluffed to perfection and beckoned me to rest.

Though the taste of regret lingered upon my tongue,
It was overshadowed by the perfection of the moment.
The sweet solitude of calm and relaxation
Came upon me and granted a long-sought gift.

Had it not been for the thunder of the Eleventh hour,
I would have been asleep when the lightning struck.

4 comments:

Shirley Stewart Burns, Ph.D. said...

This is a lovely, dark poem. You should definitely repost it at Halloween.

Shirley Stewart Burns, Ph.D. said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Janet, said...

You caught me by surprise with that last line!

The Tile Lady said...

Neat poem, Matthew! I am looking forward to getting caught up on your blog....I will have greater access to a computer after this week, and plan to visit and read to my heart's content! Thanks for visiting my blog and commenting!