The Whippoorwill

She flashed her smile to my shadow

before she left that year ago with

no good-byes ever spoken disappearing

like a dream ghost erased by morning.


She led me into that night

of perfumed splendor

to her place by the water

where moss hung from trees

and gators ate their fill

while whippoorwills called,

while silent snakes slithered.


A full moon mourned us

starting what had already ended.

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