Half Past 3

I thought
long ago, that rivers
gathered tears
to water, nourish
trees that lay close by-

not to cross over
but to breathe
as moss lace
covered their naked souls;

how young
and naive
I was back then.

In the depth of midnight
moon hovers and uncovers
hidden secrets and those rivers
whisper-

Shadows gather
half past 3

I'm reminded
of the darkness
that holds my tears
captive,
until the sun rises.