In the deep, star-dotted sky,
the witch-woman of the red moon
lays down inside its crescent shape
and sways to the tune of her heart.
Her ink-black hair glistening
with its sprinkles of star-dust
as she paints the sultry night
with new constellations. Shapes
formed by the mist of her breath.
She wears the yellow of the stars
in the bodice of her blouse,
the red of her hot, blood is woven
into the fabric of her skirt.
Passions dripping down upon
young and old lovers who gaze up
at the crimson moonlight. Rivers
of love sweeping over their hearts,
glazing over their minds, tucking
their emotions into a savory bed.
And, the witch-woman smiles
at the spells that she casts
with the red-passions she creates
dripping down from the corners
of her seductive perch within
the crescent-shaped moon of red.
