Furtive Fugitive
a moon-darkened night,
fluttering fronds above
sketch quivering streaks
of light on nervous thrill,
... on anxious joy.
ah, freedom so elusive,
on the smooth, wet sand,
among mossy driftwood,
we can clearly see
... without being seen.
stealthily, ebb tide kisses
our naked feet, why the stealth?
why the reluctance?
why be furtive before
... the naked truth?
is this passion a fugitive
so hideous that the glow
of its flame must hide,
languish and die out
... in the dark?
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