Wishing on a wishing well..

[Lark]

*The bright eyed bard makes her way to the tree, impaling her small note upon a thorn. With wistful sigh and a weary shake of her head she turns and walks off.*

A shadow comes, strong and sure
The new moon hides his face
In the light of a thousand stars
I cannot see him
No words spoken, his tongue or mine
Brush of breath upon my hair
His lips burn my own, a scorching flame
Fingers clutch shoulders
A frantic need, desire or lust
One cannot be close enough
Flesh crushed against flesh
Nails scratch bare skin
Dew-kissed grasses cool and so soft
A dream of fevered heart
Wishes unspoken, merely thought
Will he come, will he go?
A cry in the silent night, I wake up alone.

 

[Lark]

*The note is plucked down by the bright-eyed bard, with a flip of wrist she turns the page, writting upon the back before replacing it*

Dreams cannot sustain
They do not hold one close
There is no warmth as with the lips of another
The tide of hope turns
As the moon fades one more time
I stand waiting
Would that sense could be made of it all
Might what have be real or lost
I linger on to hear a word
Twisted with the current, swept aside
I no longer stand still