Two lovers dressed in moonlight,

Dancing through the sky;

The clouds the mystic dance floor,

Oblivious to the universal lie.

No mortal laws can touch them,

Their love is true unbound;

Manipulation is their game,

Wingtips scaling snow touched ground.

The wind whipping across their skin,

Silver hair undone;

Smiles gracing crimson lips,

With love that they had won.

They belonged to each their own,

Wrapped in their own light;

High above the human world,

Engaged in their unique own flight.

Everything they saw was theirs,

And all was in their power;

All was possible and done,

They owned every dark moonlit hour.

About Arrica Wynn

Arrica Wynn

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