Come
Come, as the pale moon petals
Drift in the springtime's pearly dusk,
Come with arms wide open, ready,
Come with lips pursed up to touch.
Come, for life is like a fragile moth
Caught in the web of passing years,
And soon we two, so full of fire,
Will be like stones, gray and austere.
Copyright © James Mclain | Year Posted 2023
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