A single moonbeam falls on her face,
like God revealing an angel.
But she is my angel;
my dark angel of the night.
Like the night itself she moves,
silence and grace in her every step.
Her midnight hair like the rippled clouds,
soft silky strands shining in the moonlight.
Dark eyes, darker than the new moon,
shine with promise of things to come.
Full lips parted in a feral grin,
her very presence touches me
deeper than a winter midnight’s chill.
My dark angel.
I close my eyes;
I am hers;
She is mine.