Luna(cy)
Two feet trudge towards the yew tree
Grasses, silver-green in the night, prickling her soles
Looking up, in toes pale and cold,
She whispers a psittacism that sounds like froth
People mock her lunacy
But the moon hears a prayer that no one heeds.
© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.
Illustration by Tang Yau Hoong
In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Whisper quadrille hosted by De and MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #138
Let’s softly sneak in the word whisper. Or shout it. Noun it. Verb it. Slip it an extra letter or two. 🙂
Head over here to join the fun:
January 29, 2017 at 10:59 am
There are many ways and degrees of being moonstruck. Perhaps she is really a poet?
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