de la Grange
Beyond electric stars and muddied moon,
The crippled nights and bloodstained wounded days,
And lonely hours that never pass too soon,
My faithful lover whisks away the haze,
And pours her sweetened breath like sparkling wine,
To counteract the poison in my breast,
Then softly whispers through the swaying pine,
Another mile and you can lastly rest.
The darkened hills obscure her saffron face,
As scarlet blooms a kiss upon my cheek,
And like clandestine lovers quick embrace,
A waxing moon silvers her mystique.
Her concert lures me sleepily into bed,
As Orion strings his bow above my head.