nacre grace
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dear …
moonlight
keeper of the wan,
wondrous, midnight mists
might I beg of you a kindness?
I know you hide there,
safe from the needling stars in a
shroud of black brume
but could you wink your way thru …
momentarily?
may I, for a bit of time,
be the ripples of
water that you shimmer on,
or perhaps the smooth percale of
sheets, painted cornflower by you
and still warm from passion?
might you allow me the grace to be a frozen
feather of Christmas snow,
glinting with your pastel magic,
or perhaps the catkin skin of a lover,
softly striped by your beams
thru louvered windows?
oh, could you see your way, dear Luna,
to let me be the wing of a swan
lit by your blue in its late-night journey south
or perhaps a desolate mountain peak
aglow with your naked majesty,
piercing the heavens?
or might I be - for an instant, just,
a ragged ocean shore
broken by a storm, and wrapped in a
cloak of your baby blue lustre …
would it be so awful to
let a poor fool like me know the soft
sweetness of your tender light?
oh I beg of you, the favor
if only an instant …
for I am a cold chasm
with a heart as dark as the abyss’ belly -
lost in a wood of weariness
and a lifetime nigh of my dreams …
but you, my moon
hold such a soul’s redemption as mine
if you could but spare
one brief, beryl, kind and
cottony …
kiss.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2024
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