She was the daughter of the moon
Pale, beautiful always out of reach
But who could read her
Not me, no-one perhaps
Neither was she of my small world
I long to hear her voice as she sang
Exquisite poetess
Who breathed the cool night
For if I have been so touched
Has she bestowed
a special gift?
And kissed my
eager lips
Hers for eager
eternity
Her father could be time himself
Shapeshifter moving constantly on
Could I live with this legend
Or be her poem's sad end?
Image found at www.plusgoogle.com
Robin, thanks so much for responding to the challenge. I like what you did with these words, creating a story with mythic qualities. Loving the moon can be a very lonely undertaking, especially on those nights when the clouds get in the way of what we long to gaze upon.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
This poem really helps me to picture Evanescence as being the woman in that picture. She is a wonderful singer and song writer. This poem is full of wonderful music of the moon.
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