Lady Noon
Gliding in on the hot summer wind, Lady Noon
The phosphorescent pied piper of the Dune
Our infamous Pearl of July
Sand paper tears spring to my eye
Her sultry petrichor perfume
Scratches our parched throats
Our hardened arms exhume
The first crop of oats
And I fell for her, clay red and dry
Befuddled by her beauty, sweet
Her tongue dowsed me in deceit
Heat stroke melodies, her siren’s cry
Copyright © A.E. Rivenbark | Year Posted 2014
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