Phoesune

Slumbering frills
Hiding from thrills
She rests her eyes
Longings inside
Having spent her night
Fearing morning light
In entertainment
Without attainment

The red mill grinds us
The music finds us
Wheat and chaff tingling
On the millstone mingling
Beaten through by joys
Another dream of wild boys
This moment has passed
This night her last