there is a ceaseless realm of shapeless shadows
unbeholden to sophrosyne
where once upon a glimmer stood a maiden
a prism so profound sight did beseech
we vanished along violet shores of twilight
her gentle words eclipsed my darkest fears
cradled by a crescent moon once looming
as stardust ran its fingers through our hair
the floor gave way to zinnias of azure
whose depths we dared not ponder as we fell
and for the briefest instance, we were fractals
amid a glowing wall of aquarelle
the sky was soft as snowfall in November
and florid wafts did wrest our every sense
adrift inside of worlds belying wonder
that only eyes of pretense could amend
I knew if I should wake, that I would find her
for all of Nature’s bounty was her ward
and when the sun had swallowed all the stillness
her kiss did linger on forevermore
[image credit: James Abbott McNeill Whistler]
Max, or Not 