So I saw the town in its lights of dazzling glory in the outset of the late eventide today;
Surely, as they would say, something is about to end.
So I descried the creamy vanilla atop my head in the sky, how white betwixt the cerulean tinge that swathed it like a garb of a heavenly coat. Wondered I if warm it must be - you see, did the sun unusually supersede itself in the hour is it anticipated by the folks to depart.
I fancy my heart that I have, hitherto in my loving care for the sort of taste thee leave under my tongue, not acquainted you with a lady at teen feet apart from me.
A lady with a pale red robe with a chignon tied right on the right front of her waist, exactly where leaves her the rest of the dress to fall.
Is she the lady in black;
is she the one in tangerine;
is she a soul pious in the hour that I waste bereft of my prayers.
I saw her again today as dropped the drops of mist like false flakes of the first snow in my hometown.
Must I tell thee how cold an evening it was, yet not the same.
Must I tell thou how it disturbed me at my core and shook my lips on the taut string of Arnold's beats of an acoustic guitar.
Yes, shook my legs, but safe were my hands, absolutely still - alas! How now?
Yes, quivered my hips and waist with all the skin that kept me from the souffle and the blancmange -
Looking for Arnold and my mother's delicacy, found my feet a crooked way to a glass of Chablis.
So bitter! God! Mean I no umbrage, but 'twas a clap at the centre of my brain.
How beautiful the sky I pondered over and my ears allowed the sound of the "red lights".
A singer's voice, young and high with prowess, tonight on this concrete where stand I so afar from the hearth of the warm fire whispered unto me -
"White cars, front yards, and a laughing traffic mainline one vein in the body of one that a fallen man in the labyrinth of addiction will reject."
Hark! I saw something. Alas! how bright; alas! how bloody red.
Red red lights form the rear of the cars on the road ramifies my lane from.
A simple fantasy or wish fulfillment,
A child in you curious in a balcony,
Timelessness of eternal moment,
Soon it will become a reality...
I was then close to the ledge. Shall I walk ahead? Can I touch it then?
Another light was it whose sparks fought the battle of acceptance between the grasps of what art so oft palpable only as water of dew drops when condense these baby spheres eating the heat from my nape, inlaying thus, some spots on my skin.
So was it here, all too differently. How can I call them a nuance when hits every new corner of the room like one needle pinch will that twenty one times in a row.
My thighs, my bosom, my back and my hands feel them all under the garb of newness.
I think about my creator now; can I have a second?
I think about my twin thread now; hath I untied it completely?
I think...I think a little while, but art my hands so dusty with wet sand from my old ground.
So I take them out of the pockets of velvety warmth;
there my fingertip touches my star.
All grounds slip past me feet in as it slips somewhere behind the green foliage of the coconut tree from whose leaves also peeps the last flicker of light this year and finds its way home into my eyes - refracting into colors seven so instantly at the core of the single tear clings that, like one crystal of Chalcedony, on the edge of my right eye.
I saw blue, green, red, sallow, and white.
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