the same strange dance for six years straight
the conqueror of the moon's quiet pale face
with her sly September grins
she's carrying a bouquet of northern lights
clutched close to her cradle
red running wild
she sees his last smile
underneath the sheets
where bright nights dim
in time, in tune with the receeding winds
remembering green tides of times frozen
she's searching all day on December beach
for a calm spot to lay
her final gift to him...
2 comments:
I hope this isn't as final as it sounds.
And grabbing hold of northern lights sounds incredible! It'd be like dancing in the skies. Thanks for image, snakedance.
You are very very welcome!
There are more words to come....
it was more of a final moment.
but just a moment...
I have decided to continue with it.
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