From my window the night is framed,
The stars thrown between the black.
Darkness turning through after-rain,
Grass that defends its green.
A moon dyed with henna
Falls behind the tree-line.
Frost cold as your hand;
O pull me down to the stones !
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
From my window the night is framed,
The stars thrown between the black.
Darkness turning through after-rain,
Grass that defends its green.
A moon dyed with henna
Falls behind the tree-line.
Frost cold as your hand;
O pull me down to the stones !