I can’t be bright, I can’t be calm, I want to write darkness into their arms, the lovers’ capacity are shadowed in depth, their fates, true strengths will be met. In the witching hour their magic’s so bright, Moon sprays light into their night and the raven caws deep rumble, sharp, hard, one would never know if the moon threw or broke the bewitching stars.
The lovers entwine in depths of night now, needing solace in their minds filled with sadness and sorrow, are they caressing the wrong one, tales wrought, takes to be undone, and powerful are whispers under breath, grails to be found or hopefully won.
(c) 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
Image from Pixabay.