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Mojo Melody MAG
Dashing through the will-o-wisps
Singing a lullaby of lackluster
The stars shine and echo into our palms,
(The only light in this dismal song).
Slender fingers intertwine.
Ebbing lanterns fill the streets
Glasses of wine chime in the windows
The moon aligns with our silhouettes,
Dancing on our small white shoes.
My heeled, black boots
Make me long for those
times we would wander in sneakers
Through woodlands until dawn
Broke through the branches.
But now the magic
Settles onto fallen red leaves
We stomp while frolicking and
Fracture the stems
Break the spell.
It makes me wish upon a sun.
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