As the shroud of midnight falls
over sleeping garden walls
and the moon hides behind a cloud
the ghosts of lovers past lay bare
the tracks they used to follow.
Down leafy lanes and against trees
where they used to lean,
the summer evening vents scents
that fill the air with mystic perfume
to enthral the senses of anyone
who may pass there.
A cooling breeze follows
the shroud of midnight
as it gently touches everything
and the lives of present lovers
lay hidden and unseen
until the moon peeks
from behind the cloud
and brightens things a little
around the midnight shroud.
16 February 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You have expressed beautiful tender scene of the moon hiding behind a cloud when lovers become ghosts, then peeking back to brighten the imagery of nature, scents and breeze and just maybe see present lovers. The title is so romantic as is this poem. Karin Anderson