The corridor

Lined with the candles
Wavering with the wind,
Fall hath arrived with a glorious spin.

In the midst of the bluebells,
The soft harp plays;
It was the slumber from the summer daze,
Thy gaze gallops with the cityscape.
In the rush of the hour,
Glance at the faces;
Thy heart dotes with wonder,
Beneath the Citadel of clear azure.

The light wanders in the garden,
Freedom at last from the safe haven.
Twilight settles and therein lies the endless plight,
Yet, the glasses shatters in pure delight.

The corridor, with no door.
Good night, good night.

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