Poem

A moonlit night
This does not belong to the werewolves,
It isn't of the bats and vampires,
This one is different
Blushing with untold secrets.

"Raise your spirits, silver soul!", said Mama Love
While she put her crimson painted nails
Inside her gypsy-bag to produce;
What I comprehended to be; a magic crystal ball.

"Not more prophecies of Prince Charming
Descending from the clouds on his stallion",
I sighed to myself.
"Cheer up little thing
For the starts conjure up some lovage for you!",
Mama Love spoke, with visible glee.

"Love for yourself, that you left behind
Giving up what was your only own.
Color yourself with the violet vapors of this night
Meet your enchanted soul."

And she disappeared with the winds
As they blew over me the sands of the desert
Like glitter
The fairy dust settling on me.
This night is different..