Drift Poem by nicholle gibson

Moon is on the rise
Waiting for the stars in the sky
Soon I will find myself fast in a slumber
That sly relief of sleep
Through the wind wrapping the trees
Your music gently weeps
On the grassy hills image
That spins in my mind
Your surrounding fade
Spot lights of moonshine
Fall over you oh, so fine
To for sake an awake
I do not dare
I enjoy the blissful mist in the air
That carries your tune everywhere
On this hand
I will see you again