Celestialice
You wrap yourself in a blanket of light
star sapphires in your hair
you own the essence of the night
your visage young and fair
rebukes the breaking of the dawn
recites a rolling rune
you yearn for evening to go on
alas the waning moon
portends the shredding
of your cloak
the points of light grow dim
you fail at daylights fatal stroke
your leaving is a hymn.
Copyright © Johnette Loefgren | Year Posted 2006
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