WHEN THE MOON BLOWS COLD

Gypsy-voiced the oreads call

From their far-off haunted mountain halls

.            “Come away

.             Come away

The world is dreary, the world is old;

Stars are setting and the moon blows cold.

.              Come away

.              Come away.”

But I cannot go, though stars burn low,

Though hill-sprites call from enchanted halls:

.              “Come away

.               Come away.”

There’s a table to lay

At the close of day

And fires to light

On this wild wind’s night.

No. No. I will never go

Far away where the fey flowers glow.

In the firelight’s gleam my loved ones rest

And I know I have everything…or, all that’s best

#LovePoetry #LoveandTemptation