She (poem to the Moon).

In a mad fit,
the night (still in
its evening gown)

knifed the skies
and sent

dark colors
bleeding deep into
the late hours.

I know.
I was there.

There,
there I stood, and watched.

I stared,
I let it happen.

Because I wanted
to see Her.

At last, the shadows
fell from the trees’
shoulders,

The air got colder
prickled my neck…

And she appeared
as she always does.

Always pale.

And I pretend,
always,

that she
comes every night
to see me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

________________

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Photo : SARITA ~ https://www.instagram.com/sarimundo/

 

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