For the art of repetition

The weekend found meself, baby cushions and Mr VC all ensconced half way up sliabh na muc (the mountain of pigs) looking out over the Glen of Aherlow in the company of 5 writers from the wonderful Dubland writer's group for the annual writing weekend, also known as the annual "excuse to eat 10 thousand jelly sweets and watch X factor" weekend.
As is traditional on such weekends - we sometimes, late on in the evening, get around to a 2 lines each game where we each write two lines of a poem and pass it on... here's the result of mine - which was one of the favourites this year - last years favourite can still be heard here.

And now - this years effort - and don't try to say the fourth line after half a box of butler's chocolates...

Moonlight spilled through chocolate trees
The summer night a blush of heat
A shimmer, glimmer, cresent kiss
Lost loves kiss, last lost chance
A cloud, a broken strand of moon
brought chill through naked trees
And then she danced wild and free
The night, her audience. She waits
for someone hid between the trees
whose eyes shimmered in the moonlight
A flash of shadow, tall, and then,
for the art of repetition, let's mention trees again


I'm still waiting for the darned lead btw, so apologies that I'm slower than usual at responding to your comments, they're still much appreciated.