reposed, she sits between the lights.
these november lights that brush against
her flesh; eyes, lips & nose.
in a symphony formed by
luna's grace and crestfallen summer winds,
they don't know my name.
yet, they worship every edge of her being
they beg for her salvation
and hers alone.
silken pleas, here lay my vows
by the edge of the riverbank
by the cornerstone of the path
you tread.
mystic lores— she whispers to me
when my eyes fall heavy
and my limbs numb
in the darkness,
amongst the shadows
the river creek's
songs come undone.
