In the dead of blue sad hours,
absorbed in thought
everything is observed.
Sounds, scents, motions, footsteps, and lights.
A
swirling
sweeping
tumbling
washing machine lullaby.
Tranquillity itself.
In dreams
quiet
strange
beauty bustles.
Clever older eyes
divinely enticing.
Softly,
amicably,
indolently onwards in her own sweet time.
Modesty taking pleasure in
A certain frostiness.
Glancing the same glances
dancing the same dances.
Heart beguiling Spring.
Still beautiful.
Delusions are agreeably everything
and
nothing.
Comentários