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In the Black of Night

I'm a writer, a poet, a dreamer. Born and raised in New York City. I now live in Daytona Beach, Florida. .

in-the-black-of-night

A certain yearning,

in the black of night,

not a sound but the whistling wind,

a time for dreaming,

perhaps for romancing,

when the black cloak of night descends -

on raven wings.

What magic beneath the dark night sky,

when upon the velvety blanket,

bright twinkling diamonds appear

and the moon begins to glow,

down beneath there, you are,

enjoying the show.

Then you take my hand

and we begin dancing,

while the moonbeams spotlight us.

An owl high above in the oak,

softly hoots

and a lone whippoorwill,

can be heard,

while around us, a melody of love is playing,

it goes on and on,

and we continue twirling in the night,

sweet kisses such delight -

until the early morning light.


These memories come crowding in,

on gossamer wings they fly,

when some feelings send hushed whispers,

speeding to the dark sky above.

It happens every time,

when the spring breezes,

blow night clouds about

and the glow of the moon –

brings whispers of love.

The scent of flowers blooming,

stars winking high above,

your hand I feel slipping into mine

and I know together in memory –

we’ll go strolling in the moonlight.

It happens all the time,

when my heart gets captured,

in the black of night

and I know you and I –

will be promenading till daylight.

© 2020 Gypsy Rose Lee

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