Poem no. 2
(pronounced: moon-ga-ta)

Under the moonlight, we tranquilly bask
And stars the bellwethers of the umbra
Now beckoned are zephyrs of our mask
And revealing, of a perturbed utopia

Shilly-shallied, fiddled with uncertainty
And 1 would be the time of the night
For axioms we follow as for veracity
And still we lie erroneous of our flights

Now a feather, and dangled be our mood
On sync with the breezes of Friday twilight
Dawdling until midnight beyond the hoods
And still a passion lingers lustrously bright

And now serving on the ocean of our tears
It's for what was an oddly lachrymose tale
Then in dominion be for what we've held dear
In a bedridden cadenza, by the languid gales

So a forever chants upon a lunar reflection
Galaxies and droplets for how we've sung
And still a tale has begun in intuition
Ornate emotions while the chime has rung
© alxita