A serenade with the wind
arms whirling, outstretched
in the light of the sunset
The dying sun bleeds
shades of red and gold
into the canvas of sky,
rushing into the bold strokes
of stars and midnight
Fingers slip past satin petals
spurred into the air
by playful gusts,
and gentle scents
from the flowers stroked delicately
with the shadowy hue
of the newlyborn moonlight
glide daintily
on the back of the breeze
 
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