night is a fragment
of imagination
warm wild jasmine and candlelight
ignite the spells
of shadow dancers
drawn to the flames
the dying embers singe the wings
of moths
until red winter dawns, brittle as an eggshell
scattered white, borne still
night is a fragment
of imagination
warm wild jasmine and candlelight
ignite the spells
of shadow dancers
drawn to the flames
the dying embers singe the wings
of moths
until red winter dawns, brittle as an eggshell
scattered white, borne still
❤️❤️❤️
gorgeous
Thanks, lovely comments.