Moon and the poet

A tweet revealed that someone had followed me.

Curiosity began to consume me.

She was nothing more than a stranger.

I caught a glimpse of her writing and figured she was into poetry, carrying the essence of love and mystery.

She penned her poems in black and white.

To read it, I waited for poems day and night.

Her writings were a subtle blend of whiskey and wine.

I felt the buzz even after the clock struck nine.

I was striving to know about the poetess, but she advised that I would not succeed.

It’s been a week; she left me with voids and no words to seek.

She was like a frosty mountain peak; to reach her, I plead for strength from the gods of Greece.

Her poem is the euphoria I wish to seek.

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