A Lovely Little Day Dream

The cinnamon scented days in your grandiose porcelain cups, as you would like to say, in grass green warmth of May of the sandal wood shadow in your valley made of three warm words from starry dark, alongside the  moon-circles It is lovely A rose dance In a tipsy trance A blue Greece peace descending downward Shivering moon ice And Amazon warmth From mouth to mouth “Go slow go slow “ Calls the lark from moon-snow “Go slow”   Why the distraction? In the lovely job of translation from fire to ice Slice by slice Dropping all disguise Into a stupendously charming reality Of collapsing charm Then, all on a sudden Why the reaction Of sudden interruption?   The lark asks “Look above Visit the cascade first The temples, the galloping horses The beautiful bird-neck And the awesome hills”   The cream coloured shaft of sky beteen the two tension to the hilt Maddeningly failing Into freedom of the flood Tumultuous silence ...   And he felt the  soft palm on his forehead He came to It was the nurse By his hospital bed ‘Yes ?' ‘Sir, you have to ....' 'The chemotherapy?' 'Yes Sir' A gentle smile on her face A sandal wood shade Of a different kind though And ice slabs In almost absolute temperature _________________________________________________________ 20/01/2017