The dance of one’s regret - the dance of dandelion ability;
In the night of inspiration as a tune reflecting off an instrument;
Like the thrill of translation in sight and sound, regret and senility;
The vision of life escapes it, poor – nonstopping, discharge and lament.
The glow of every morning moving, short;
The breathless -a never lesson in a whisper curbing into blur;
I hear them before time ends, Godlike summer, bottoming, abort;
Forever is a lasting shower, a haunting in my head, a blur.
Copyrighted 2010
