Poetry

dead of Night, dancing Delight

Deep in the forest, in the dead of night
dreaming of dancing full of delight
She moves like a fox without a sound
and all around she’ll soon be found
 
Deeper she travels through the trees
winter chills and a moonlight breeze
her eyes are golden, blue, then black
sorrow follows her long-gone pack
 
a hopeless light flickers far ahead
a hopeless dream now filled with dread
she chases now what could’ve been 
while she’s chased by demons disguised as men
 
Faster, faster, she picks up speed
Hurt by words she starts to bleed
Fire flies from her hair
how she’s fragile, and oh-so-rare
 
The rushing wind now ceases soon
and she to halts by the glowing moon
for it has shown it’s bright desires
and she is something it admires
 
Clever she, falling and following
cunning, too, yet rapidly hollowing
long gone were the days of sun
long gone yet never done
 
she is worn and torn and immensely shaken
For if she falls to sleep she’ll never waken
and taken she is by the night
*
*
the dead of night, 
*
*
the dancing delight 

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