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| (Original poetry for Poet, by me.) |
She Waits
Darkness spilling across her gown
Soaks the fabric, traces her curves.
Like fingers of a lover's hands,
night hovers, lingers on her skin.
Moonlight framed by chamber window
Whispers glad tidings, "Soon, he comes."
Her heart dares hope, yet she lies still.
Unconvinced in the dark, she waits.
~Ephemera, 21 April, 2011
