Stolen Lace

Blue weaves the tentacles of night drawn through gaunt gangly limbs a-dance upon shimmering crystal ice coldness in her languid lunar breath Holding the predators at bay eyes peering through her bluish light a silence that calls the wind to heel numbing the will for fight or flight draping cold fields in stolen lace holding the moment past its time weeping in love’s lonely embrace tear drops that coat her world in rime. ©3/3/2019 Liquid Luna Lace Poetry Contest Chantelle Anne Cooke - sponsor