Before you speak, a song
swings into my bias-cut mind,
draping these dreams in veils
blue as smoke, as indigo,
as sky reflected in sea
reflected in your eyes.
Try as I might--melody
becomes you, finds me,
swaying in your arms while
the champagne sky sparkles
overhead, harmonizing with
the varied charms of this
September Saturday night.
(c) 2014, by Hannah Six
No comments:
Post a Comment