Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
donall-dempseyPoems
The moon discards her customary white attire. Tonight she wears a lemon yellow. "You look beautiful!" I tell her. "Oh you...poets!" she smiles to herself. See the tiny house asleep in the big valley. Even the river dreams. Sleepwalking to a sea. Voles and moles and owls and howls. An old dog remembering its wolf ancestry. One would not be surprised at encountering fairy or elf. "Ahhhh Mr. Puck is it your self!" We pass by Mr. P's expletive deleted. But is not this world this borrowed night made for lovers such as us our kisses tasting of fright and delight. Our scared and sacred voices stretching back through the ages a river of lovers flowing through time. "Shhhh shush now close your eyes!" Only this kiss exists to tell us who we are.
0
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
WHO WE ARE
The moon discards her customary white attire. Tonight she wears a lemon yellow. "You look beautiful!" I tell her. "Oh you...poets!" she smiles to herself. See the tiny house asleep in the big valley. Even the river dreams. Sleepwalking to a sea. Voles and moles and owls and howls. An old dog remembering its wolf ancestry. One would not be surprised at encountering fairy or elf. "Ahhhh Mr. Puck is it your self!" We pass by Mr. P's expletive deleted. But is not this world this borrowed night made for lovers such as us our kisses tasting of fright and delight. Our scared and sacred voices stretching back through the ages a river of lovers flowing through time. "Shhhh shush now close your eyes!" Only this kiss exists to tell us who we are.
donall-dempsey
Written by
donall-dempsey
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem