The green mean garden which is
Actually a forest
In its own right.
Fulfilling prophecies of
A better moment..
in these concurring periods of time..
Helping one contemplate, rejoice and celebrate
The many hues of beauty in colors,
That only God could name.
Lonely, lost, this magical afternoon.. By the dusty bedside, to the champagne glasses that haven't seen a toast, to clouds that have forgotten the presence of the sun, this ever pervading romantic ways in which I seek my own sadness- I dance with grief, every night, in the presence of the milky white crescent moon for a new morning's delight.