Twilight’s therapist, whispering Cicada. A melancholy in the moon’s pale light, beneath the chins of the willows waltzing across a picayune sundown. Dancing in the moonlight reflecting the hoary humming secrets from the knees settling heavy in the dark. Unmasked, hiding in the rustles of the leaves. Where shadow’s of souls haunt, caressing timbers with eyes of embers, like ancient lover’s spawning.
Rated for Mature(17+)
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Short StoriesWhispering Cicada
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Nature love!
Thank you, Paula.
Such fabulous images packed into these few words!
Thank you.