A boy singing. Night. The young woman
of summer clutches at life
with beams of sunlight
cascading from her fingertips.
A boy singing! Hark! The night clouds
split and thunder booms at will,
splitting the night in two.
the sky turns purple,
he wears many a cloak
but none so dark as the night’s sky itself.
For what is more glorious
than a thousand stars dancing
amongst the deepest dark of eyes?
The girl’s light fades, the boy
leans close. “When you play
a game of chance, there is
always a chance you will
lose.” He tells her, his voice
but a chill, but a breeze.
She fades to obscurity,
light waned, promise
snatched, and the boy
begins to sing once more.
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