once I saw a sylph
in the daylight
as air drafts
sailed worn gossamer
to ruined silo home
nestled on the edge
of a golden field
fired by the waxing sun
in the dark
she drifted out
bade by grieving gales
to swirl in the stream
unstirred overhead
dancing on the blade
of the sickle moon
I thought I heard laughter
I know I felt rain
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1 comment:
Damnit, Neef, when are you going to write again?
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