La Chanson de l'oiseau

Preening cream silk,
her eyes
become soft burning embers
of the deepest blue hue.
long slender legs dance before me
spinning glass upon silver chandeliers…
and a wind full
of lavender bells brings forth a nostalgic bouquet.
In turn,
my periphery dances in a hazy gold light,
the landscape changes…
from mint fields, and white willows,
to that of porcelain symposium.
Yet, again
she dances into sight, with freshly dewed
cream locks,
fine china white bode.
Suddenly, a hand, my hand, rushes out…
to grab that which isn't there.
Only, touching fleeting sparks of honeyed light.
I hear her sweetly croon sweet nothings upon my ears…
blush gently kissing her cheeks a soft rose,
and lips
ever so gently pursed in amusement.
I then feel the grandest of sensations,
sharp lemon upon my creased mouth,
cool hands like an ocean breeze
around my waist…
But, before I have time to touch soft hands,
she dances away into heaven…
in light periwinkle to navy, and chartreuse,
she takes all that is familiar away
with her tender halo of ivory.
then I find myself staring off after her…

Surprisingly, I find myself crying within obsidian walls…
but, not out of sadness.
I was happy to have once
met the loveliest of beauties…
even if it be
within the remnants of child's dream.


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