Alabastrine's Clan

Alabastrine, oh moon-kissed muse,
Your name etched in stardust, a celestial ruse.
I, the poet, wanderer of ink and dreams,
Shall weave your tale, where moonlight gleams.

Beneath the alabaster sky, I met her gaze,
Eyes like moonstone, secrets in their maze.
Alabastrine—the very name whispered grace,
A canvas for my verses, a moonlit embrace.

She danced through my lines, a spectral waltz,
Her heart veiled, yet pulsing with cosmic pulse.
Was she mortal or ethereal, I wondered aloud,
As ink flowed, tracing constellations unbowed.

"What color am I?" I asked, daring fate,
For poets seek truth beyond time's gate.
Alabastrine smiled, her voice a star's refrain,
"You are longing," she said, "a blend of joy and pain."

We wandered 'neath silvered boughs, our souls entwined,
Love painted her veins—azure, vermilion, undefined.
But poets are wanderers, bound by distant horizons,
And I, too, vanished, leaving stardust in her eyes.

Alabastrine, my moonlit enigma, my celestial rhyme,
I watch from afar, weaving her name through time.
When lovers gaze at the moon, they glimpse her face,
Guardian of love's mysteries, in the moon's quiet grace.

So let the poet's quill sing of Alabastrine's flight,
A tale spun from stardust, love's eternal light.

✨🌙 The End 🌙✨