long and light
a pageantry, perhaps of illusions!
Insubstantial masks of peplum
and flounce, aging and yellowed.
Love? An air kiss of intimacy,
kneeling before temples of success
a templar, a knight, a monk
and a cold tomb.
All pre ordained, but what of me?
I am the stuff dreams are made of...
a smile of simplicity, a garden and a
warm hand to enfold a warm hand.