Blog Dis

Temptress moon
you shall melt me
into an aimless child
without my sultry sun.

You are my soul
of bluest shades
speaking to the night
of love and anger.

How do my moods hang,
in the middle of the day
before depth,
comes to my shadows?

I will brood and howl
the forethought of tomorrow
to haunt my future
coming upon me today.

COPYRIGHT © Patricia K McCarthy