Geisha Whispers.
Moonlight crying on white linen, fingering
lace curtains, glancing apprehensively
at distorted reflections peeping
through Waterford crystal
framed in silver,
a silence
almost apologetic
creeping through the room,
trying hard not to disturb
the softly sleeping gloom.
Melting gently through my bedroom wall,
wind chimes, barely heard
bamboo sighs,
Geisha
whispered words
that penetrate my sleep
with velvet promises from far away,
I feel their kiss upon my eyes
after the waking of the dawn
before the night wind dies.
Liquid noises scattered on the day
nudge my slumber, quietly
taking my hand,
waiting
for my eyes to see
through milky listed windows,
barely discernible visions,
fading remnants of the night
retreating shadows settled down
to sleep away the light...
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