Night Iris1 min 193 1 min 193
Wuthering sole, a wandering soul,
As the sun drizzles and dissolves beyond the mounts,
And the moon cautiously hovers over her,
In the humming of a peculiar sound.
A gasp is stolen among the stars,
A whisper exchanged amidst the night,
The dew of nightfall rolls on her skin,
As she, blooms into a night iris of sin.
She veils her shades of amethyst,
And unfurls in the midst of a silver hue,
She bathes in shine of starlight,
Glistens from lustre of a melancholic moon.
With lust for the night she breaks her stereotype,
Caressing her solitude in a soul of bravery,
She dwells in her pride of liberty, choice and chance,
She blooms in illumination of ebony not ivory.