Life for me began when the stars and the moon
colluded to swirls around clouds painting dreams
and thoughts accustomed to ambiguity.
Prevalent company pondered the sillies of life
while moments wavered past like smoke rising
though a chimney, leaving charcoal taints
along its path of frank honesty.
Mind bewildered with breaths that gave rise
to mists accompanying the chills of the night;
the dark spots of her eyes built around me
a cascade of flourishes, castles of matchsticks
lit to lift that haze of the mist
my own breathing conjured.
My exhales succinctly became senile,
my eyes corrupt; it no longer dazed
on the dancing flickers of the stars or the
proud silent poise of the moon,
but on the poignant dark spots of her eyes.