• She walks among the stars in the sky, the night basking in an afterglow.

    Her feet bare, as they glide over the grass glistening with dew.

    Her is a crown of tresses, as wild as her soul.

    She is pale, her eyes spark with fire and determination.

    Her body is slender and yet strong, a warrior is she.

    I love her, this ethereal being.

    The days I've contemplated her, goddess, angel, or illusion?

    With her heart she loves wholly, but not divided.

    She speaks with wisdom beyond her years.

    She longs for knowledge, and thirsts for experience.

    Her eyes can pierce with coldness, as if made of ice and never melted.

    But when alight with joy, she shines for all.

    I long to make her mine, but alas, she is not to be owned.

    For she is a child of the moon I'm sure.

    A pure child of the moon.