Chapter 1: chasing lights
[01/04/2016]
I’m done with chasing will o’ the wisps,
I tell myself –
No more sparks that die too soon.
I’ll stick to drinking the warmth of day,
Or schedule my waning like the moon—
But the fairies laugh if I try to withhold
From following,
From sweet, pale roaming.
They have all the power
Of a golden hour,
Or shadow fingers,
Or storm-purple gloaming.
And my muse’s half-siren,
Half kitten-at-play,
And she’ll toy with my heart until I stay.
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