There had been nothing as sensuous as this night before
When the breeze with its beckoning arms,
Invited me to float away, like a thousand myriad leaves
Sojourning where? I know not…

The night was calm, and intoxicated;
In strange words it seemed to tell
Of love, and loss, and separation
Each utterance as a spell.

I, alone, on the portico round
Counting stars like a lonesome child
When the night whispered, with a reverberating sound,
Like the wind wails in the moorlands wild.

I, with utmost trepidation,
Was the most unwilling to give in.
For what appears to be a mere facade
Might have more to it than seems.

And so I sat, brooding and alone;
A silhouette, so vulnerable and stark
While the desiccated leaves, like memories old,
Slowly fade away into the dark.

April 17, 2012


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