The Secret of Lady!

There, the sun comes
Then exposed,
The lightness of their shy
Room clear, bed done.

Morning!

It's early yet.
But something kept
In soul, in bed.
Half-Moon
becomes a day

She hopes.
Infinite wait.

No sooner ended Light
Is finite, also
few modesty of the Lady!

Are not Afternoons! !

It is Night.

The NOCTURNE!

And more darkness comes down
more creeks and
Ponds!

Taking advantage of the lunar spasms
She is the sleeping night! ! !
Panting, longing!
Became ball of wool!
soft cotton!

And more nigh walk......

you listen in the streets
Sounds Shameless!
sound dewy!
Sound nocturnal lost...

Sounds of the Lady's Secret! ! !

poem by Mirna Morgan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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