Auburn hair as setting sun
Seems a fitting touch
Of flames reflected
In her earthen eyes.
Peace sought brazenly in ashes
Of softly coated words
Uncertain in appeal
Yet full of meaning.
Brittle branches break
The wilted shades of north
Gently shone in thread of rain
Within the drought of hue.
She speaks in silence
Rebellious to a fault
Imposed presence of thought
A veritable feast.
Of which I refrain to know
Sight which I am blind
Notions unmet and worthless
A plea unheard has fled.
Till dawn shall come
Bid me rest no more.
Moonlit Poetry 