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Monday, 6 June 2016

Poem: Night Calls

The day dissolves into a ball of fire, 
Smearing pure skies with burned scars, 
It is then, the Night calls, 
And beckons me closer to him. 

And we speak the language of the winds, 
Frolicking under the Moon's very eyes, 
Duveted with warmth of the darkness, 
And Night draws himself closer to me... 

 copyright © 2016 thearcticstar

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