Luna Poem by Mark Walters

Luna



Luna stalks the dead of night,
On dreadful shadowed wings.
Cape outstretched in silent flight;
A hungry wicked wanton thing.

Weary, restless heart strings,
Plucked by nameless fright,
Silenced as great Luna sings.
Screeching out her heart's delight;
Guess who, who, who'll eat you tonight

Monday, June 12, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: nocturne fantasy
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