Lionel Stevenson

Close Wrapped

Close wrapped in summer velvet
Hangs the night,
Her little candles lit,
Her grasses tuned
In liquid silver
To the moon's slow rite.

Enfolded as I lie
In her soft skirts,
Walled memories of houses,
Lamps and words
All fade and fall away,
And I am free
To fly with her
Into the heart of light.

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