Dreaming of the Dark

May 3, 2010
Twilight breaks the day is ending,
Moon rises, the Sun is mending.
Teardrop roses are my rest,
While Moonlight falls across my chest.
As the midnight fills my senses,
Cold rush of wind, the tree’s soft tresses.
Noises of the darkness ascend to above,
The hooting of an owl, and the mourning of the dove.
Nature is swaying to a silent tune,
Beneath the stars, below the moon.
The blood of the broken turns the river red,
And while glass breaks, blood will be shed.





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