The Night Poem by Michael Bisson

We explored the different shadows,
Grotesque it beats, collides.
Willow walks of fortune, a wish of dreams combine.
A thousand whispered voices bounce against the night.
For seconds, fear, we tremor, but for hands we hold so tight.
Are thoughts go out for others, never held down by the 'I'.
We see rust as precious metal and gold a vailed lie.
Distortion is our saviour, a flame of yellow, red and blue.
The light it keeps on moving, but a trip we must pursue.