It's late in the night of the Lover's Moon and beneath their blanket of crisp winter's snow the first tender shoots of tulips and narcissus and daffodils lie in wait for a spring day that will soon come. Along with me as they slumber, they dream of him for whom they were planted. Upon their frosty beds and through the windows from which the beloved once gazed, upon my own bed, the Lover's Moon shines down from on high,casting its long shadows in the long lonely night... Spring will come for them but with him the spring of my life had come and gone.
"Lover's moon is high on the sky...143"
Stephen Christopher Harris
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