Cherry Wood...a poem

Your are crystal, the eyes of stars at twilight.
I am willow, the dance of wind in September.
We dare not breathe words that will mock poetry,
the tale of moonlight passing in the elbow night.
The sharp smile of the horizon etches the epic of us
into cherry wood, a story few will understand.
~ ~ ~


I think the fourth line is sheer genius...thank you Muse for whispering it to me.