I am not a nastic flower
That I have to shut down
With the onset of darkness
This December night when
The dew and stars arouse
The nyctophilia in me
I sneak out
To the woods behind
My hostel room just
To stand alone, feel the
Cold breeze on the face,
Listen to the psithurism,
Inhale the damp scents
Of tree and grass
Watch the bittens learn
To fly, circle and land
Against the sky ----
The cigarette smoke of
An intruder sends me
Rushing back inside ---
When will I ever have
You to myself without
The wolves coming sniffing.
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