If nights sung the sweet galore

Of the moonlit unsung debonair

If the tides of of time

Struck that magic rhyme

In the mystique ticking timeless time.

The tune cuddled the moonlit tide

Amid the plenty awesome delight.

The dressed espousal in nasty glee

In quest of the obscure bright.

Lovely bridals singing galore

The dainty moon lost
Dreams dead over the millions dead.

A new hum of soothing lullaby

Amid the canopied bliss.

Of  the autumn midnight glee.
Embrace the mystic dark wonder
A moment to yonder in splendour.

Lullaby dead, thousands bled, dreams ahead…

A long night to ruminate
The lost air of magic wonder.

The dead night spells a sorcerous
Autumn blending to fruitful spring.

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