Spun gold from darkest night
Hangs low and pendulous on the horizon,
Watching as she gazes into the heavens.
Soft and wild, the voice of the wind
Whispers sweetly into her ear…
A single weapon –
A few moments of wild abandon.
The hollow wail of starlight surrounds her like
The symphonic shriek of a thousand hiding voices.
Passion builds in her veins –
Passion like a great wave that
Roars up and over the beach and
Does not recede…
Only swells the more with
Every tick of the bright night’s clock.
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