#WritcoPoemPrompt115
#Darkveil.

Moonless nights, July nights,
Few stars don the night sky,
darkness perfumed;
The faint gusts of blossoming lime
breathe the silence.

The sea still
Mute like a sleeping lion ,winking though;
beneath the green vine
A cricket harps ,
Its thin shrill kills this apathy.

Far away a train slithers by,
A caress to the warm living body of the night.
She longs and she...