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One Summer night I lingered late
With pensive gaze and idle pose,
Intending there to contemplate
The wistful, blue tobacco plumes
That rose augmented and illumed,
Enlivened  by the beaming moon
Whose living light in raining columns
Brought a landscape into view.

Reclining with a cigarette
In shade of cypress silhouettes;
Upon the trembling page I scrawled
The very strangeness that I saw,
When fairly faintly I perceived
The queerest notion I received;
That I could not draw the night
For the night was drawing me.
Kryten Wolfgang Mar 2015
Killer connections bridge the gap,
****** scenes gripping seas and we fell dreaming.
Lock ties and the ticking crack affirm the uprights clicked into position.
Nerves are shaken nearly beyond but to the core, a new batch.
Figure eights, burning questions.
Infinite loop of which the ends are severed.

And my hopes for less....
Kryten Wolfgang Mar 2015
Ghosts appear then dissolve,
With the breeze,
Just like her whisper,
It quotes to me,
Exclaims of a sanctuary,
Deep within my memory,
Once haunting me, but now overgrown.

— The End —