I linger beneath the light of a rising red moon,

 I wait, and I hope for your presence to manifest soon.

For the madness of this scarlet and veiled passion has penetrated my soul,

 as I, in an au natural state of both body and mind, revel in my desire of you to hold.

For I stand, I stare, and I frolic in the rising tide,

I feel your presence as if you were there.

 yet I wince in silence as this crimson death I deny,

for the wind blows its razor like dreams through this passions air.

A hot fear soon begins to consumes me, for I seek you and you are not there,

I cringe in brutal horror as a shallow glimpse of your visage I perceive,

For I watch hapless as you drift upon this velveteen sea,

 Sucked in by the red moons secret desire,

I drop my head in self pity, as you fly away

with flames bursting from your hair.

I scream and I cry,

And in my shameful nakedness,

I prepare to die.

For you promised me,

To be mine,

Yet it is with the red moon you wish to be,

I cry,

The moonshines,

And in the coldness of the night,

My spirit, resigns.

J. Allen Wilson © 2004