Vanishing Hill

The spirits are dancing

So gorgeous in a starry night

So filled with mute stares

Of yearning desire.

 

The endothermic ambience

Hugs the moment of non-solitude

As shadows held shadows

And bodies warm the dark.

 

Silhouettes twist and turn

Complementing the curls

And tight crisp sweet wishes

Of “I do’s” and “forever’s”.

 

Curse is the name of an envious soul

Be him god or king, or jester or jack

As the cards are never yet found

For games go ignored.

 

Lips hug lips

And the shadows fade;

Fading towards sweet “I do’s and forever’s”

Oblivious to what is sure.