You, my lover of leaving, moonchild, woman of rainbow,
it doesn’t matter, like a window, closed can be opened.
Moon sickle waxing, rain showers, sound of your footfalls;
the wind in the morning through mousseline of curtains.
You, my lover of landings, sunlady, woman of mornings.
it doesn’t matter, those partings, if you come yet again.
Linked a Rumi inspired micropoetry for Kerry at toads. Will link to poetry pantry tomorrow as well.