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ОглавлениеUnder the Harvest Moon
A NOVEL By
GARY BLINCO
Copyright 2010 Author,
All rights reserved.
Published for the Internet by eBookIt.com
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0031-0
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by photocopying or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
This novel is a work of fiction; the characters and events described are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to past events, or real people, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.
First published in 2003 by Poseidon Books http://www.poseidonbooks.com An imprint of Zeus Publications P.O. Box 2554,
Burleigh MDC Qld. 4220
Australia
©Gary Blinco 2003
Under the Harvest Moon
Drunk with the harvest moon, Our hearts are not our own; As nature’s creatures swoon, I walk with you alone.
Pale gum tips etched in silver, Shimmer upon the bough, We stroll beside the river, Through yesterdays and now.
Under the harvest moon, We dream of future years; But morning comes too soon, Renewing pain and tears. We shed our precious lives, And failed visions bloom; Where secret passion thrives, Under the harvest moon.
The long wet purple shadows, Engulf the silent stream, And all our little sorrows, Recede behind a dream.
Soft hues of grey and white, Deny the unreal day. The deepness of the night; Holds future pains at bay.
Under the harvest moon, We dream of future years; But morning comes too soon, Renewing pain and tears. We shed our precious lives, And failed visions bloom; Where secret passion thrives, Under the harvest moon.
Pale fields of stubble sprawl, Against the darkened sky; And nature’s ravaged call; Comes as a plaintive cry. Land raped without regret, Speaks out with one accord; But blind hearts soon forget. Man ekes his own reward.
Under the harvest moon, We dream of future years; But morning comes too soon, Renewing pain and tears. We shed our precious lives, And failed visions bloom; Where secret passion thrives, Under the harvest moon.
Deep night as shadows creep, And weave a dark cocoon, That lulls the world to sleep; Under the harvest moon.
But dawn must come at last, Night’s veils are drawn away; We turn and leave the past, For the wonder of today.
Under the harvest moon, We dream of future years; But morning comes too soon, Renewing pain and tears. We shed our precious lives, And failed visions bloom; Where secret passion thrives, Under the harvest moon.
