…forever wild

The night holds her secrets close
yet her beauty she unfolds
like blossoms in the spring
the languid shifting of the leaves
whispering softly like a lover
as the gentle perfumed breeze
caresses all her hidden curves
and the serenade of the nightingale
reaches into all the corners of darkness
lingering like memories lost
poignant and beautiful beyond words
the shadows tremble with desire
and the weeping stars are free falling
aching to become as one with the night
running forever wild, in their untamed fires
© Ann Bagnall