Item, Reserved.

A pure white breakfast bowl;
nothing to interfere
with the perfect simplicity of a meusli,
or a rummage of all-bran. And so on.

I'm rambling on so, don't notice you there,
Until I'm leaving, there at the door, a smile!
A smile so full and fine, you are so beautiful,
I'm a gasp of air, and me a fire-sign!

Late for somewhere, oh how important
it must have been. That, or my impatient heart,
drumming itself closer to extinction,
farther from you, lost into an unnamed night.

Do I miss you? Can this be so?
This elfen creature who's name I do not,
did not know. May never know.
Or did I whisper, leave it to the wind.


Cor,  2nd September, 2008