Saturday, June 28

Sleeping One

Just so, gold citrine burns the sky,   
o’er paling lures and gentle sighs.
Sweet one stargazing ‘neath the trees,  
hast thou a dalliance for me?
Until we meet, withhold goodbyes.

Awake not for a subtle cry;
dream on, for verity belies.
Arouse the king, and what may be?
Myth mine or yours? I quail to see.

Endless query, so soft nearby,
some answer’s found in lullabies.
Until we meet, I think of thee;
my slumb’ring lord, obey my plea!
Your cognizance comes by the by.  
Myth mine or yours? I quail to see. 

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