There will always be a question,
A doubt, a brace, a fear.
A stir that remains within the mind.
As a wind through a willow,
Strands will flutter, without foundation.
Drifting leaves sharply set.
Backdrops against a starless sky,
Illuminated with inner lights.
Each snuffed by self-doubt.
The cool reflection of autumn’s face
Serenely ripples by.
A promise made of honey, yet lives.
Sweetest taste of peppermint,
Thus jaded, grows pale.
A beauty once bright, dims.
Hazelnut brews gently,
Calmly cracking, craving within.
A tear caressing our bond.
Night fondly rests upon the valley,
But never within our reach.
For sleep, is forever another’s prize.
Moonlit Poetry 