Dark Lass

Its poetry time...




Graciously sweeping across the fields,
when the greens and black both meet,
There a beautiful silhouette of a lady is formed,
as soon as the moon is up on its feet.

The dark lass or so they call her,
Her face so white as snow,
so beautiful as the moon.
radiates with a captivating glow.

Her hair flying across her face,
Her light green eyes,
Her cherry type lips,
Form a painting of enchanting art,
That can mystify a viewers heart.

Like a ghost, her dress floats around,
a beautiful ghost like one.
A ghost that's so beautiful,
that would never make your run.

Where is she from ? Who is she?
And where she goes? no one knows,
She just appears at night ,all suddenly,
And is gone as time flows...

We saw her again,at night,in those fields,
and decided to talk to her,
We went down into the grass,
and all tried to find her.

She wasn't there,not a trace,
all around we scoped.
The field was empty,nothing unusual,
All around we groped.

-Brandon Joel Fernandes