Presented with one palm sliding along the steep balustrade,
Down a waterfall of stairs,
The other molding to her hip for balance,
In a glitter dappled deep blue moon dress,
Held up by two finite threads, I could snap my fingers,
And they would let go & drop that dress in waves to the ground,
A sparkling pool of flippers swallowing away her toes beneath sand we cannot see.
The horse in me runs rampant to catch the curls and tails of her hair,
but I’ve never ridden a horse or tamed any animal for that matter.
I will for her, For Night Lady.