Often I think of love,
As an animal,
The leopard, with her
Deep spots, wide as night,

Sleeping upon the knarled
Limb, high against large,
Grey moon, a ghost
Herself, quietly slipping,

Amongst the dark treetops,
Like some soulful sojourner,
Missing all that life holds,
For sole reason of stealth,

Though the long tail,
Can always be seen,
Curled beneath her,
Holding tightly her deep sleep.

About Pitboss14

Cosmic surfer of paradoxes.
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