(Poem) Sonata’s Moonlight

-How could my senses ever dare deny the enticing invitation of those playing by night rules?  

-Silky and soothing psalms are their lone admittance fee. 

-But, it’s mere pocket change for any opportunity presented to visit their vast and veiled abyss. 

-The kind of dark Louis Armstrong sang of, possessed me to roam the streets.

-I possess nor desire any destination on the eve hours of June but only to peer into the skys racing fluff.  

-My feet’s lives are branded “grounded,” but this view grants me levitation. 

-The Southeast flows to great lengths to greet me first. 

-What a humid howl it issues for initial notice.  

-A gale so ghostly chills not but, indeed, makes me long for a wave to crest. 

-If I were pounds lighter, I’d be a feather, flung to glory. 

-Aerial and acrobatic norms are shattered.
-Nocturnal beast barrel through the barrage of bluster beauty.
-Wielding the wind masterfully, their maneuver mind boggles.
-I envy supersonic vision. 
 

-The trees, next in secession, flutter a leafy hymn.  

-Only the house light’s pail presence exposes their patter-ing performance. 

-How unison and, yet, chaotic is their melody? 

-They’re required not to bless my ears but, still, saw pity. 

-Just then, the stellar ballroom is calling for cosmic steps.
-My definition of a sparking tango is this blazing blessing:
incineration infinitely condensed for my viewing convenience.
 

-Compare the twinkle’s global view to anything else, and your wonder of it would surely be stunted. 

-Reds, blues, whites and yellows can seem at arm’s length, but their presence is one only our psyches can venture to.
-Still, while they’re sacred in their own right, I’m more intrigued by a more intimate kind of shine.
 

-Never must one let their memory falter in this fact:
What is nearest to us affects us most.

-Her celestial glow earned designation to tug the hearts of my ancestors and the oceans alike.
 

-Her nuclear spotlight never ignores her steps. 

-Only men with no souls withhold thanks for you—natures free firework. 

-My lunar love was the site of the silk shrouds running past your face, as you illuminated their every fiber—their every strand.  They caress cratered cheeks, I may never touch. 

-Beethoven’s bones bathe in the light, which you so generously ration.
-And, in this evening, the brilliant ball has sparked his revival. 

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All Entries, The World We Miss

2 Comments

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  1. This was truly superbly penned!

    Like

    • Judie,

      Your kind words are sincerely appreciated. Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this. I hope that I can continue to provide literature that is stimulating and intriguing to you for years to come. Please try to enjoy the rest of your day ma’am.

      Like

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