loqui:

The moon is dripping kisses
In the rippling mirror

Plip plop of snowdrops
On the summer

Over midnight lakes
Where grey clouds will hover

Murmuring into the walls
No words - only memories

A parched thirst for firsts
To return
And spark off
Tinder sticks in water
Matches sucked of sulphur
Red moon, make a fire in the lake