Into The Moonlight

She walks slowly, oh so slowly gently placing one bare foot softly in front of the other. The ground was cold and damp from the long showers of crystallized droplets falling from the heavens. She breathed oh so gently her chest rising and falling. Her raven tresses loosely fell upon her slender shoulders tousled by the breeze. Her posture was erect as she proceeded through the graveyard. Almost mechanically she gracefully walked. Her pale completion seemed to glow as the rays of moonlight spread across her snowy skin. Her silver gown clung to her shoulders and dragged behind her across the frosted earth. Slowly turning she tilted her head towards the sky and ran her fingers down her luminous face. Gracefully as if in an incredible dance she lowered herself onto the ground. Leaning back she stared at the sky. Surrounded by headstones. The stars shining ever so brightly. Quickly her violet eyes flickered shut veiled by dark lashes. “Oh beautiful night,” she whispered “how you haunt me.”

“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lighten o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!”
By Lord Byron

PurpleEyesRBeautiful