How does my

moonlight poetry

capture the void

I need filled?

~

In the dead of night

she calls to me

softly on fluttering wings

she is born of silence

and icy howling winds

We meet in twilights

a simmering haze

where our eyes betray

our wonton and heartfelt gaze

She touches me with her fire 

It does more

than warm my soul

She nurtures me lovingly

always watching

as she watches me blossom

And how gracefully

I throb

and spill my seed

deep within her

moist silken folds