moon witch
Morah’s nightgown was frothy not frilly, pretty and dainty
breeze blew it in a billowy way as she walked toward the sea
her husband watched as she headed toward the round moon
she was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter
he stayed where he was, understanding the night was for her
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.