Tailored dresses, tailored skin tight
glisten under the midnight moon beams
and car headlights.
Such beateous women shouldn't stay in the rain
She weeps a melody of wistful melancholy.
I yearn to help her mend, but join in harmony.
In minor keys our strains will lilt on magically.
Minuscule, dainty, flocculent and docile
Creations of the sun and beautiful sunflowers
Scent of fresh milks and esters
Flavorings of rose and chrysanthemums
I am the night.
I am the cold dank mist that rises and chills the bones.
I dwell, tarrying in the slinking shadows and the darkness that creeps into the soul.
I am the pale eye of the moon-shimmering mockery of the life-giving sun.
The river flows soothingly yonder,
The mountains and valleys above have azure skies,
Intensely confounded and feeling voluptuous,
For the nifty zephyr is everywhere, aloft and above.
If I were to cite
the vales and hills,
for deference I allude
mountains and here.
Evacuating the vessel,
moving on to higher planes,
the soul has no regrets,
the body no more pains.