burn
firelight
burn
beacon
burn.
the sky
is folded
and put away
on the shelf.
the sun
is unravelled
with her
flame chiffon
skirt,
hitched high
might
the moon
wear
a dress
today?
pearly white
or silver?
early day
with beacons
glowing on
mountain peaks
wearing cloaks of
snow.
and ermine
sprinkled,
my thoughts
are turning
with her
sleepy eyes
and the moon
and sun
are tangled
in her hair
again.
what would
night say?
(6th February 2014)
YOU ARE READING
Blue Moon
Poetry"Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes." - Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There (2012 - 2014)
