Children of the Night

The kind of love that flourishes only at night.

Only when the moon is high,

atop the gods that sleep above,

and starlight dots the onyx sky

can they reclaim their dying love.

As white clouds make their trite return

and blue jays chirp their morning tune, 

the grass will stir; the sun will burn,

and their romance will start to swoon.

But as the twilight comes in view

and slowly blots their pallid world,

their phoenix love is born anew;

their boiling passions come unfurled.

Ye blessed, dark nocturnal things

that strive in blackened midnight air;

that sway and dance on softened wings

and love, and lust, without compare.

The End

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