The Looking Glass

Rearranging life's board amid the stillness of their early morn; silence Takes her hand and shifting sands ? Careful this brush a thoughtful stroke.. What's the hurry she says; a cup of coffee as cigarette; there's no one there ? Closing her eyes a batch of butterflies flying by; circling waterfalls in purple skies With golden locks their diamond crowns; silver bells tubular clouds ? We were young.