her hair frazzled in wisps of clouds,
she whirls through the nightly sky,
her moon of a bosom glinting, an
illumination of the passing lives.
she whirls through the nightly sky
ever dreamy, in her every dream
of the enchanted orbs of her eyes.
her moon of a bosom glinting, an
evanescent sight of the heavens
I see, in the rifts of her movement, an
illumination of the passing lives.
she is but a miser’s thrift, an object
wandering (I wonder at) through the sky.
.
Written in consideration of dVerse MTB and Get Listed for October at With Real Toads.
HA's Place 