Writes Of Night
She loved his paper the words well writtenHer fingers taper his heart so smitten
Maybe moonlight was whispering of storm trees and the Night
Listening and lingering long beyond the right of senses never normal
For what Forever is ?
He moved inside the Summer proved that Only ever is
Her kiss was silken heartbeats on back streets like sketches softly drawn
Or images on marble carven deep like dreams into the Dawn
That never came to steal his name in letters vanishing
Onto another list. ,
She heard him crying behind the morning where she walked
Draped in Beauty in veils of Sadness worn out welcomes like Life supposed
A question rose with thorn and petal like pinchers, threads and shuttles wove
Her clothes were torn in shreds as blinding as the naked Light
To receive his Night ,
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2018-10-23 at 18:15
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