My Rest a Stone
by Arielle Walters
And yet I laid me down to sleep, for night
Had come. Some Hand had left these pillows, strong
For weary head, and it would not be long
Until the morn anointed me with sight.
Ethereal vistas danced, while visions white
Beguiled the shades and soothed the dreary throng
Within me. Sweet to dream, though bound by thong
Of darkness, when the morrow vowed delight!
But still I lay me down to sleep. Now tossed
The hours and faded far the argent rung.
Now faint the notes through restless senses sung.
I close my eyes on granite hopes embossed
With rime. Whence lies the long-awaited gloam?
Where is the oil to make this house a home?
A writer, seamstress, and editor, Arielle likes to watch various parts come together to make an appealing whole.
Photography by Kenneth Godoy