The myrtle violets sway by the boulder
And the bats flutter away from the trees.
The dried leaves raise and rustle,
As the horn of the last local fades away.
On the darkest of all moonless nights
All I need is a strong shoulder
And not a pillow to rest my mush.
Over in a maelstrom with the heart,
All I see a skeptical brain
Trying to reconcile
Yet disagreeing to express overtly
The forlorn emotions.
Emotions that often hide behind
The obscure mask of flummery.
Slithering through the window,
The cold wind sweeps away
The scarf that veils my heart;
Heart - that’s still scarlet.
The night then lends me her shoulder
So I step out of the doors of my hut
In my old chinos, with a satchel
And walk towards the unknown chasm,
Filled from top to bottom with eerie.
And as I further,
The night snogs gently
On my cheek, like a sanguine lady.