The moon comes at me 
through the trees, 
golden gleaming 
picking apart my seams. 

The sound it screams 
and the colour drowns me 
in my dreams, 
echoes low 
in twos and fours, 

infinity comes 
through open doors 
shaded in cloud, 
dim then alive 
so bright the shine. 

A diamond flickers 
five times.

©JMCole