A Song, Unfinished.

The cool wind strokes your face,
Irrespective of that you quicken your pace.
Eyes searching, head bent low,
Your gait as fluid as the water’s flow.

Where are you headed, my fair lady?
All covered up, looking rather shady.
Is that a smirk that I read on your lips?
Or just a play of shadows from the way your hat tips?

The swaying trees respond with sighs and groans
To the blowing wind’s occasional moans.
Your eyes look up to see the glowing moon,
While your ears listen to the nocturnal beasts croon.

Ah! Now I see that moon-warmed face —
So perfect, so pretty – I’m all in a daze…
But unfortunately, the moon didn’t capture your attention for long,
And so you looked away before I could finish this song.

*

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8 thoughts on “A Song, Unfinished.

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