The wild woman called Luna Belocionado
My lips quiver to speak of her too plainly
For she’d been born under a white shadow
And she’d laughed at the mountain vainly.
It was said as she grew older that she knew
The ways and words of the wolves and stars
She could speak to the forest and listen too
She’d played and broken bout twelve guitars.
In the nights she’d dance with wicked souls
And then she’d ride those mountain ridges
Tonight she climbs and then down she rolls
Oh she sings about the crossing of bridges!
Her voice is the melody of a meteor shower,
In her voice I seek my cosy bower,
To fall asleep tonight.
Story Of The Footloose 
Loved this poem! 🙂
Thanks Rohit. 🙂
You are welcome! 🙂
and what could be better than that of a cosy bower I ask? 🙂 Truly Prashant the way you construct these poems seems as natural a flow to them as when the day turns to night! I will read on and on if you dont mind…
I must thank you for your deep engagement. It is a good feeling to be read and felt. 🙂
it is never an easy task for me to find something to read that can hold my interest so truly my thanks to you! I feel like Ive just found this amazing book that I might never put down!
Your words go well with jazz. 😀
Do they? thats a good thing…or are calling me smooth? hahaha! either way i’ll take it 😀
I am what I like to call a ‘commenter’ haha! If something makes me feel I can not or actually will not hold back…tis the whole point of being out here with one another to connect on some level or many…do you think? 🙂
I think being here is like being outside. pointless but an opportunity to happen, like you feel like happening. 😀