Passing porch-light
where grey love-moths
flutter to each other how each lover's
Love is like the Sun
(stare too long into its face and you'll go blind)
Through lingering dead leaves at night
scatter drops of wine
for new violets and death-beetles
Love is like the Moon.
Where does the path lead?
Each to their own place is led.
About the Creator
Halston Williams
Eternal Student: literature, poetry, history, art, and philosophy. English Teacher. Writer & painter. Traveller & skier (when there's $$$). I'm young enough to be foolish, yet old enough to know better. Lover of dark & beautiful things.
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