She sheds

her gown

and slips,

soft-footed,

slinking

through the

midnight alley

of cobbled

stillness till

her heart

thuds echo

in each

house that

dreams in

the hours

of hoot

and stars.

Then as the

dawn breaks

and curtains

sashay into

the first light

and coffee

scents the air,

she slides

back beneath

the bed-sheets

unaware.

Independent content creator, ghostwriter, author https://tinyurl.com/y2cgqhgv mental health advocate, and poet. bridgetwebbber@outlook.com

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