Night

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A personification of the night.

Submitted: June 28, 2017

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Submitted: June 28, 2017

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In one hand she cups with bright fingers a candle,

its flame round and white as it dazzles the eye.

The expanse of its brilliance too huge to be reckoned

seems in her hand barely a few inches high.

Jewels gleam on her fingers and gleam on her wrists

and they gleam on her chest and her ankles and head.

A crown hugs her locks and a chain loops her neck;

gems glitter and twinkle with the starlight they shed.

Her skirts of deep blue are all woven of moth wings.

Their patterns are traced by the swooping of owls,

whose feathers are woven in spirals and swirlings:

in the trim of her skirt are faint wild wolf howls.

Deep, dim, and dark is a cloak of deep shadows.

Clasped on her shoulders, draped as if by chance.

It falls in deep folds and is sweeping behind her

but the lights of her raiment are a firefly dance.


© Copyright 2017 Teresa Morgan. All rights reserved.

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