tiny drops
of the moon's tears fall
into a still puddle
clouded with the night sky
and the fireflies that
dance
around the willow tree
as the breeze blows
and shifts the leaves
to make a
wooooosssshhhhh
sing their song of silence
and in the cemetery
she walks
in the beauty
as the night
her long tresses
flow to her waist
and the deep curve
of her hips
makes her
ethereal
like the wisp
of white mist
that gathers
on the headstone
and plummets
to the ground
rolling and slithering
along
it creeps in silence
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