The single flame, dancing without music
light from across a dresser mirror
echoes her shape
her movement
a rose in candlelight, her curves upon the wall,
soft whispers above piano music and
the scent of jasmine, burgundy and bliss

Bridging the alley a woolen string
notched with wooden
pegs, flying banners of
linen and

paisley and
cotton and
- behind the geraniums, across the ravine
ending in cobblestones
and slumbering cafes, lies another set of
eyes behind the open window
searching the night sky for shooting stars
and other remnants
of a galaxy he cannot grasp, cannot touch

Many, many thanks to Gritchka and etouffee, the former for proposing the nodeshell, and the latter for collaborating on this poem to create a truly amazing experience. In my ever so humble opinion.

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