Visitation of a Moth

Labyrinth of the Mind

Posted in Poetry

White flush

sweet moonlit kiss

a pure midnight beauty

your wings whisper against my face

how others will shun my nocturnal muse

silent trespasses into my room

guided by candle light

a liquid soul

white blush.

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For though All are not able to write books, all conceive themselves able to judge them. ~The Monk

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