Our recent discussions about the moon reminded me of a poem I wrote back in the nineties.
Don’t know where it came from, just started filling my head. So I thought I would share it.
Moon Maiden
She floats on a bed of velvet black
Sprinkled with golden dust
She spins and weaves her magic spell
To trap you in your lust
She dances on the moon and stars
Arrayed in gossamer sheen
Shimmering ghostly pale
Her hair a silver stream
She beckons then she flits away
Chase her if you please
She’s here, she’s there, she’s everywhere
She only means to tease
Can you catch this maiden fair
She’s not quite what she seems
Can you hold a puff of wind
Or feel a gold moonbeam
Can you ride the universe
Count stars in their profusion
Can you harness perfect love
Can you touch illusion.
Don’t know where it came from, just started filling my head. So I thought I would share it.
Moon Maiden
She floats on a bed of velvet black
Sprinkled with golden dust
She spins and weaves her magic spell
To trap you in your lust
She dances on the moon and stars
Arrayed in gossamer sheen
Shimmering ghostly pale
Her hair a silver stream
She beckons then she flits away
Chase her if you please
She’s here, she’s there, she’s everywhere
She only means to tease
Can you catch this maiden fair
She’s not quite what she seems
Can you hold a puff of wind
Or feel a gold moonbeam
Can you ride the universe
Count stars in their profusion
Can you harness perfect love
Can you touch illusion.