poemlist

4.9.98

The moonfall is soft and silvery
dust of ages, trickled down
from a cloud of stars somewhere
up and out into the darkbound sky
the scent of the night
and the early a.m hours
draws me in as a tantalising bewitchment
beckoning for me to walk in shadows
and the solemn path of the moon -
to wherever it shall take me,
near or far,
physically, or in the heart.


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