Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2016
.
We met at night and our love
Grew in the eves—
And then, I had to leave her.
It was like a new emotion,
An uncovered degree of cold
And far winds moaned, shuffled air
Became scarce and mythic as aquifers
Under desert, like no bird had ever flown
Nor sung.  I longed to see her in dream
Her burning red hair, like my steadfast
Flame— alight, a swoon of dance
Of newness and of peace,
In the death of night.
Seán Mac Falls
Written by
Seán Mac Falls  Éire
(Éire)   
296
   Seán Mac Falls
Please log in to view and add comments on poems