Moonlight Sonata

in E-minor



Holding hands,
strolling homewards
from pub to Mein host
one moonlit night,
she said:
“Riders use this lane frequently,
see where iron-shod hooves
have gilded chevrons on undulations
like sand patterns after an ebb tide!”
He, chuckling, added: “… and some fifty yards on,
see piles of horse-dung illuminated
by porch light!”
Witching hour pealing in,
both silently reflected
on romantic and realist.
Sleeping facing outwards,
she blamed it on
lunar forces braking chakras,
he, on the beer!




© Gothicman 2017
Views: 1932
critique and comments welcome.

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