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A Story

"I've tried the moon tilted in the air,
Above a hazy tree and furnished cluster,
As you might try a jewel in your hair,
I've tried it fine with little breach of lustre,
Alone, or in one ornament combining
With one first-water star almost as shining."*

As I told my tale her eyes were shining,
Her anticipation was in the air,
Around the light moths began to cluster,
As it fell upon her auburn hair,
Giving it a gleaming lustre
With her limpid eyes combining.

My story threads I was combining,
While outside the stars were shining,
A mild zephyr stirred the air,
A few clouds grouped in a cluster,
Trailing wispy sheds of hair,
A gibbous moon added its lustre.

Her pleasure lent my story lustre,
Interest and eagerness combining,
To her all my sentences were shining,
My words spun magic in the air,
Fascinating syllables in cluster,
While her fingers twisted strands of hair.

I had always loved her hair
For its copper-burnished lustre,
With her pale skin combining,
Like a diamond she was shining,
She had with her a certain air
To which men around would cluster.

The hours had begun to cluster,
I ran my fingers through my hair,
I could add no further lustre,
Tiredness was now combining
With a wit no longer shining,
I let silence fill the air.

Moon and stars were combining,
Their lustre in the air so shining
To cluster highlights in her hair.

*"The Freedom Of The Moon"
Robert Frost.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

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