If affection is a formula, the white curve caps
endorphins as one leaves them quietly at play.
Qui es in coelis transcends a remark. The sky
is starting to be full. Our lives mirandize all
the pattern that precedes a move definitive. Day
meanders into nightfall. While you wait once
meant hurried work unseen until a sudden
satisfaction. Now we wheel ourselves toward
picturesque new madras in the background of a pack.
The only institution we remember offers a rejoinder.
I just learned she performs transduction. Furnishing
incentive to encompass bee spheres of delight.
Perfume is how we are again. The leisure between
talk time and repair of what surrounds us. One
of these days we will outlive our dreams.
Kismet as a polished dream, the vast field energized
by an impromtu kiss
Sheila E. Murphy
No comments:
Post a Comment