The night is thick with melancholy,
Under the silver tarnish of half moon,
The lone silhouette plodding on the grass field is she.
The moon's gentle light,
Paints the dense clouds with a sliver of grey,
And casts on her a pall of gloom.
For as loose tendrils of hair mask her moonlit face,
And the gentle breeze envelopes her,
She broods over how your sporadic embraces, unlike this one, make her heart joyfully pace.
She wonders how soon you let go,
Like the clouds drift away from the radiant luminary,
Like the winds whirl away and away they go.
The silence of this night provides tranquillity,
Oh how lovely would it be to share it with you,
And flee away in a bubble of glee.
For now, I'll soak myself in a cloudy dream,
Where I walk with the phantom of you,
Dark no more, the night's agleam.
As the moon is swathed in smothers of ashen clouds,
It casts a smile at the twin shadows,
A reflection of her stellar yet fleeting one.
YOU ARE READING
Symmetry
Poetry"There is Sun and storm in every blossoming. That is where the poetry lives" All rights reserved to @destellos_, 2016.
