Nightly Gales.

Nightly Gales. 



The soft gurgles of a stream,
wending its way

over bright pebbles,
The whisper of a

 butterflies wings
as they dry and

at last open,
to flutter in the

whistling breeze,
a tiny canvas sailing.

So too is the

beauty of your sighs
when sleep seals
your cobalt blues view of me.
No music ever

composed in brass caverns,
or over hollows

graced with strings,
can compare to the

sweetly exhaled
somnolent puffs of air,
that tickle my ear as you lie
next to me, dreaming

of tomorrows to come.

It is your lullaby

that lulls me
to join you in the

sandman's castle,
where we reign

as king and queen,
till dawn makes us

paupers again
rich with true love's gold.

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