Friday 11 June 2010

Midnight Girl


Her soul performs with perpetual grace,
Scattering sweet dew throughout the warm night,
Yet when the sun glows, she leaves not a trace.

Among nameless legends, she takes her place.
Nestling in shadows, safe from the hard light,
Her soul performs with perpetual grace.

The evening’s blue shell is her carapace,
Wrapped tightly around her figure so slight,
Yet when the sun glows, she leaves not a trace.

When Polaris stares down through silent space,
And the cities bubble, smoke and ignite,
Her soul performs with perpetual grace.

She bathes beneath neon ribbons and lace,
Mingles with the syrup of soft twilight,
Yet when the sun glows, she leaves not a trace.

The witching hour revives her doll-like face,
Fuelling her heart and her mind with delight,
Her soul performs with perpetual grace,
Yet when the sun glows, she leaves not a trace.

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