Moon
I use to stand under a certain tree
And wait
For the hills to perfume their body
And wait
Still for the cold delicious memory
Of night
I use to wait under a certain tree
And bright
Flight of fireflies serenades the silence
But gave my soul so little recompense
For my wait
I exulted only when you came, pure as rain
In the naked sky, you balmed my pain
Flood the gate
And myrtle rose with joy, your white silk dress
Like a soft invisible hand folded on my breast.
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