Sitting alone
in the garden
facing a wall darkened by night.
Vines climb all over stones
in the moonlight,
whispering secrets
when the breeze passes through.
I touch your face
lightly, your eyelashes,
your hair, your skin.
You think it is the breeze
that passes through vines.
no...it is I.
Dewdrops fall
one by one,
ethereal strings of pearls on your hands.
The hour when night wakes into day,
pale shade flowers with unknown names
tremble as the earth turns cool.
I kiss your eyes
lightly, your heart,
your mind, your soul.
You think it is dewdrops
that's gathered on your hands.
no...it is I.
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