The Moon hadn't risen yet,
But the mountains were white
With the glow of it,
As if Night herself was arrayed
In a bridal veil of snow tulle,
Waiting for a ring of pearl—
Solitaire Selena.
YOU ARE READING
Prickmedainty Poetry
PoetryFor all those who broke their glass slipper and still search for stars in the shards.
Lake George Lunascapes
The Moon hadn't risen yet,
But the mountains were white
With the glow of it,
As if Night herself was arrayed
In a bridal veil of snow tulle,
Waiting for a ring of pearl—
Solitaire Selena.
