Gentle nights

Gentle is the night that breathes sweet seductiveness of a midnight sun in bloom, a sapphire splendor covering the midnight rose, this silky blanket of tranquility. Eternally spurned by mystics of old glimmering, heavenly, provocatively. Ushered in the bewitching hour as time stood, silently still. like the gargoyles of pepper-stone... Pass the old abbey and gothic bridge, across the placid lake. Encroached by a mist bearing witness to twisted shapes of lovers doomed at birth. Ambushed they were in falsified bliss, chased with the playfulness of a single moonbeam, gliding across that midnight sky. Dance of lovers among the sphere of fireflies radiating gloriously with eminent breath, in the quiet of night. So soften the winds and their abrasive tongues, speak not of this cursed place where, the banshee awaits. Still, they dance on gentle moonlit nights…